^^rxu>u>c. 

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EVE,   JUNIOR 


Of  CALIF.  UBRAHY.  I.OS 


There  was  something  about  her  that  impressed  him,  even 
before  he  saw  her  face 


EVE,  JUNIOR 


BY 

REGINALD  HEBER  PATTERSON 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  GIRL  FROM  No.  13" 


NEW  YORK 

THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 
1917 


Copyright,  1917,  by 
THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 


TO 

MY  WIFE 


2132231 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  ADAM  AND  EVE 11 

II.  THE  VOICE  OF  THE  SWAMP     ....  22 

III.  THE  Kiss 38 

IV.  THE  CONSEQUENCE 50 

V.  THE  IMPOSTOR 63 

VI.  THE  SHADOW  OF  A  DOUBT  ....  72 

VII.  "SKIP"  CARROLL'S  SUSPICIONS  ...  83 

VIII.  COMPLICATIONS 99 

IX.  THE  IMPOSTOR'S  REVENGE  ....  114 

X.  AN  EVENTFUL  NIGHT 127 

XL  THE  HIGHWAYS  AND  HEDGES  ...  142 

XII.  MOUNT  VERNON  PLACE 155 

XIII.  EVE,  JUNIOR 167 

XIV.  VALUE  FOR  VALUE 181 

XV.  THE  GIRL  IN  THE  SHADOW     ....  192 

XVI.  THE  "BIRTH  OF  SPRING" 203 

XVII.  BROOKIE       209 

XVIII.  BACK  TO  BODKIN 220 

7 


CONTENTS 


XIX.  A  BAFFLING  LIKENESS  .     .     .     .     .     .  231 

XX.  THE  SEQUEL  OF  A  RETROSPECT    ...  250 

XXI.  THE  RETURN  OF  THE  IRIS 260 

XXII.  JUDGE  NOT 275 

XXIII.  A  FACE  IN  THE  DARK 283 

XXIV.  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  VALLEY     ...  292 
XXV.  A  RED-HEADED  WOODPECKER  ....  301 

XXVI.  THE  WAGES  OF  SIN 320 

XXVII.  A  LEAF  UNFOLDS 327 

XXVIII.  ADAM  AND  EVE  REACH  A  DECISION  .    .  343 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

There  was  something  about  her  that  impressed 
him,  even  before  he  saw  her  face  .    .    .   Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

"I  reckon  I  kind  o'  like  you,"  she  told  him  in  her 
soft  violin-like  tones 50 

"It's  all  a  dam'  lie,"  she  cried.    "You  can't  prove 
a  word  of  it" 116 

"So  that  there  is  what  tuk  ye  away,  is  it?".    .    .     228 


EVE,   JUNIOR 


CHAPTER  I 

ADAM    AND    EVE 

CURLED  up  at  the  foot  of  a  great  water  oak  on 
the  top  of  the  bank  overlooking  the  creek  lay  a 
girl,  her  copperish,  red-brown  head  resting  on  her 
left  hand  while  her  right  held  a  pencil  over  a 
drawing  pad  on  the  ground  in  front  of  her.  The 
pencil  wavered  uncertainly,  as  though  the  artist 
dubiously  debated  the  next  step  in  her  work.  Her 
simple  dress  of  plain  blue  denim,  confused  and 
disarranged  by  her  care-free  attitude,  but  half 
concealed  the  graceful  litheness  of  her  slim,  well- 
rounded  figure. 

McLean,  regarding  her  intently,  instantly  lik- 
ened the  girl  to  some  childishly  fresh  and  beauti- 
ful wood  nymph  whose  name  his  mind  groped 
vaguely  to  recall.  Every  line  of  her  attitude 
and  figure  was  breezily  refreshing.  There  was 


12  EVE,  JUNIOR 

something  about  her  that  impressed  him  with 
her  innate  femininity  and  youthfulness  even  be- 
fore he  saw  her  face,  as  yet  hidden  by  her  heavy 
coils  of  glistening  hair,  each  rope  of  which,  un- 
confined  by  pin  or  comb  or  ribbon,  fell  where  it 
listed  to  end  in  a  curl.  The  surveyor  studied  it 
for  a  dubious,  thoughtful  moment. 

"Red!"  he  decided  emphatically;  then,  retract- 
ing, "No-o,  not  red,  exactly;  auburn!  Shucks! 
That's  too  common.  Must  be  red!  No,  it's  not 
red,  either;  it's — wonderful!" 

Meanwhile,  a  dog  capered  about  the  girl, 
making  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  arouse  her 
from  her  reverie  and  announce  company.  At  last, 
in  his  playful  prancings,  he  set  a  none  too  clean 
front  paw  upon  her  sketching  pad  and  earned  a 
swift  slap  on  the  muzzle. 

"Go  'way,  Tip,  you  onery  pup,"  she  warned  in 
a  low,  sweet  voice,  which  somehow  made  Mc- 
Lean remember  the  name  of  the  nymph  he  had 
unconsciously  likened  her  to.  He  turned  from 
the  road  then  and  went  toward  her. 

"Good  morning,  Calypso!"  he  called  quietly. 

The  girl  looked  around  and  sat  up  quickly — 
but  without  alarm,  drawing  her  feet  up  and  her 


ADAM  AND  EVE  13 

skirt  down.  She  smiled.  And  McLean  was  sure 
afterward  that  he  must  have  blinked  and  opened 
his  mouth.  He  recovered  himself,  however,  in 
time  to  meet  her  question.  She  was  still  smiling 
when  her  lips,  which  he  felt  a  sudden,  irresisti- 
ble desire  to  kiss,  formed  an  adorable  pucker  and 
set  a  single  word  to  music. 

"Who?"  she  inquired,  her  laughing,  gray-green 
eyes  meeting  his  brown  ones  with  a  frank  fear- 
lessness that  sent  a  thrill  through  him. 

She  tilted  her  head  back  ever  so  little;  so  that 
for  the  briefest  instant  she  appeared  a  trifle 
demure,  then  got  to  her  feet  with  an  unconscious 
grace  that  relieved  any  impression  of  affectation. 

"Calypso,"  McLean  repeated.  "Isn't  this  the 
island  Ogygia?" 

The  girl  laughed  a  low,  musical  laugh  that 
made  him  think  of  the  bell-like  singing  of  the 
water  under  the  clean-cut  prow  of  the  Ires  lazing 
down  the  Gulf  Stream  at  half  speed. 

"Them's  hellish  names,"  she  replied,  still  laugh- 
ing a  little.  "Where'd  you  git  'em?" 

McLean  felt  his  spinal  column  stiffen  with  the 
shock  of  her  words — yet  there  she  stood,  a  slim, 
beautiful,  wholesome,  whole-hearted  child  of 


14  EVE,  JUNIOR 

seventeen,  perhaps,  smiling  and  looking  at  him 
with  an  expression  of  adorable  frankness  and 
waiting  for  his  answer.  He  felt  the  blood  mount 
in  his  face  and  neck;  but  the  tan  of  exposure  hid 
it  from  her. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  contritely.  "You 
reminded  me  of  Calypso,  and  the  island  just  hap- 
pened to  fit  in." 

"Indeed!  Does  this  here  Calypso  live  on  an 
island,  too?"  she  asked,  interested. 

McLean  bit  his  lip  and  frowned  to  keep  from 
laughing. 

"She  did,  a  long  time  ago,"  he  replied. 

"Oh,"  said  the  girl,  "you  never  seen  her,  then; 
seen  her  picture,  I  reckon." 

"No,  I  read  about  her,"  he  returned,  trying 
hard  not  to  laugh. 

"Oh!    In  a — a  book?"  she  hesitated. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  narrowly. 

"I  didn't  know  you  could  tell  about  people 
that-a-way  in  a  book,"  the  girl  remarked,  thought- 
fully. She  studied  the  point  of  her  pencil.  "I 
wisht  I  knowed  books,"  she  added,  flushing  a  trifle. 
She  looked  up  at  McLean  and  then  out  over 
the  water.  The  smile  faded  from  her  eyes  and 


ADAM  AND  EVE  15 

a  pensive  longing  crept  in.  Suddenly  the  sur- 
veyor understood. 

"Books  aren't  everything,"  he  consoled  quietly. 
"The  smallest  real  thing  in  real  life  is  bigger  than 
the  greatest  book  ever  written." 

The  girl  pondered  this  thoughtfully,  turning 
her  pencil  over  and  over  between  her  fingers  in 
much  the  same  way,  perhaps,  as  she  was  turning 
his  words  over  in  her  mind.  Then,  looking  up 
suddenly,  she  asked,  "Who  was  Calypso?" 

"Calypso  was  a  beautiful  nymph — a  fairy  girl 
— with  whom  a  certain  great  warrior  fell  in  love 
a  long  time  ago,"  McLean  explained  at  random. 

"Oh !  Do  you  think  I  am  beautiful?"  she  asked 
simply;  and  in  her  eyes  there  was  no  smile. 

McLean  felt  a  strange  little  tightening  at  his 
throat. 

"Yes,"  he  replied  with  equal  simplicity. 

"I'm  glad  you  think  so,"  she  said  quietly,  then 
added,  musing,  "Calypso!  Funny  name,  ain't  it? 
I'm  sure  glad  it  ain't  mine,  for  I  reckon  Dad'd 
called  me  Cal  and  I  hate  Cal."  The  dog  poked 
his  nose  into  her  hand  and  whined  for  affection. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  McLean. 


16  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"Eve,"  the  girl  replied,  rubbing  the  dog's  cold 
muzzle.  "What's  your'n?' 

"Adam,"  laughed  the  surveyor. 

"You're  a  liar,"  she  retorted,  laughing  back  at 
him. 

McLean's  face  became  suddenly  grave.  He  stud- 
ied her  intently  for  a  moment  and  then  he  un- 
derstood that  the  expression  she  had  used  was 
merely  a  part  of  her  vernacular. 

"What  is  it*?"  he  asked,  indicating  the  blurred 
top  sheet  of  her  sketching-pad  on  which  the  dog 
had  walked. 

"It  was  clouds,"  she  replied  with  corrective 
emphasis  on  the  tense,  "but  it's  mostly  a  mess  o' 
dog-tracks  and  mud  now.  It  don't  matter,  though 
— I  never  could  draw  clouds." 

She  had  hardly  spoken  when  there  came  a  peal 
of  thunder.  A  sprinkle  of  rain  followed  it;  and 
then  the  squall  broke  in  earnest. 

"Look,"  said  the  girl,  pointing  up  the  creek  to 
where  the  first  heavy  wind  flaws  lashed  the  quiet 
water  into  foam,  "you  can  see  it  a-comin' !"  And 
then,  with  all  the  easy  grace  and  swiftness  of  a 
deerhound,  she  turned  and  fled,  laughing,  along 


ADAM  AND  EVE  17 

the  trail  with  the  dog  leaping  playfully  at  her 
side. 

Eve's  invitation  for  McLean  to  follow  was  a 
beckoning  of  her  hand  as  she  half  turned  in  flight. 

It  was  hot  for  the  middle  of  June.  All  morn- 
ing the  wind  had  pumped  out  of  the  southwest 
in  fitful  gusts,  scorching  as  the  blasts  from  an  open 
furnace  door;  and  all  the  living  green  things  of 
swamp  and  shore  and  sandy  lowland  swayed  and 
nodded  dreamily  before  it  and  sighed  for  the  cool- 
ness of  the  coming  storm.  For  steadily  in  the 
north  and  west  the  thunderheads  climbed  over 
the  horizon,  the  first  of  them  white  and  hard 
and  rugged  as  snow-capped  mountain  peaks,  the 
followers  as  black  and  gray  and  foam-flecked  as 
a  storm-tossed  sea. 

McLean  looked  up  from  his  fieldbook,  cast  a 
weather  eye  to  the  north  and  west,  yawned, 
stretched  and  went  on  with  his  sketch  of  the  shore- 
line about  triangulation  station  "Hades";  for  he 
had  so  named  the  point  because  of  its  analogy  to 
that  place  of  heat  and  general  discomfort.  But 
this  was  before  his  meeting  with  the  nymph  of 
the  island. 


i8  EVE,  JUNIOR 

A  little  later,  when  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  fell 
across  his  book,  he  looked  up  again,  conscious 
of  the  calm  and  the  steamy,  earthy  smother  that 
had  settled  down  upon  the  land  with  the  dying 
of  the  wind.  He  stretched  and  yawned  again 
and,  unlimbering  his  long,  khaki-clad,  leather- 
putteed  legs,  arose  from  the  damp,  humid  bosom 
of  the  earth  with  the  reluctance  bred  of  a  sum- 
mer day. 

A  trout  leaped  from  the  water  near  the  bank 
at  his  feet,  cut  a  graceful,  gleaming  semicircle 
in  the  still  hot  air,  and  dropped  back  into  the 
coolness  of  its  native  element  with  a  little  splash 
that  set  the  ripples  dancing  shoreward.  McLean 
watched  enviously. 

"I'd  have  a  mind  to  follow  you,  old  fellow, 
if  it  wasn't  going  to  storm,"  he  said  aloud. 

Whereat  an  echo  from  the  swamp  flung  back 
the  single  warning,  "storm."  McLean  turned  to 
the  swamp  in  the  youthful  exuberance  of  his 
twenty-four  years  and  laughed,  "What  do  I 
care?"  And  the  swamp  solemnly  retorted,  "care." 

The  young  surveyor  stood  for  a  contempla- 
tive interval  looking  across  the  wide  expanse  of 
brooding  water  to  where  the  tall,  slim  topmasts 


ADAM  AND  EVE  ,       19 

of  the  Iris  rose  beyond  the  pines  on  Spit  Point. 
All  morning  since  the  cutter  had  landed  him  he 
had  walked  without  seeing  a  sign  of  human  habi- 
tation and  now  he  would  have  gladly  signaled 
the  ship  and  returned  to  her  until  the  storm  had 
passed  but  the  long,  wooded  point  of  land  be- 
tween prevented.  So  he  turned  and  walked  south- 
ward along  the  shore,  hoping  to  come  to  a  place 
where  the  point  would  no  longer  cut  him  off  from 
communication  with  his  vessel. 

Splashing  on  through  the  mud  and  waist-high 
cattails  he  came  now  to  a  sometime  well-worn 
road  which  the  leafy  denizens  of  swamp  and  wood 
and  shore  had  almost  obliterated.  The  land  here 
was  higher,  however,  and  the  footing  better  than 
the  cattail-covered  shore;  so  that  he  gladly  fol- 
lowed such  faint  traces  of  this  antiquated  road 
as  Time  and  Nature  had  permitted  it  to  retain. 

And  now,  as  McLean  followed  this  old  trail 
which  an  age  gone  by  had  worn  in  passing,  the 
dense  growth  of  the  ever  curving  road  faded  out 
and  the  light  streamed  in  ahead  where  the  trail 
dipped  quickly  to  the  shore  and  lost  itself  in  the 
inlet.  A  stone's  throw  beyond  lay  an  island 
which  at  first  glance  seemed  little  more  than  a 


20  EVE,  JUNIOR 

low-lying,  oyster-shaped  patch  of  pine-grown  sand 
of  several  acres  in  extent.  On  closer  inspection, 
however,  McLean  discerned  a  great  brick  chim- 
ney rising  beyond  a  willow  which  apparently 
concealed  the  house  itself.  A  small  wharf  project- 
ed from  the  outer  end  of  the  island  and  a  cow 
and  numerous  chickens  gave  evidence  of  human 
habitation.  Imagining  the  line  of  the  old  road 
to  continue  across  the  intervening  water,  he  was 
able  to  pick  out  faintly  visible  traces  of  it  ascend- 
ing the  island  beach  to  lose  itself  among  the 
trees. 

The  tide  was  low  and  it  was  evident  that  this 
strip  of  water  was  easily  forded  to  the  island 
beyond.  Wading  in,  McLean  found  that  in  the 
deepest  place  it  was  scarcely  to  his  knees. 

His  arrival  upon  the  island  was  at  first  con- 
tested by  a  good-sized  Chesapeake  Bay  water  dog 
who  vociferously  questioned  his  right  to  land,  only 
to  compromise  at  the  surveyor's  kindly  approaches, 
present  a  sandy  paw  in  greeting  and  permit  his 
shaggy  brown  head  to  be  patted  and  rubbed. 
Satisfied  that  the  newcomer  was  a  friend,  the  dog 
turned  and  led  the  way  up  the  continuation  of 
the  old  mainland  road. 


ADAM  AND  EVE  21 

The  sun  was  gone  by  now  and  the  sky  was 
filled  with  threatening,  low-hung  clouds  and  dull, 
distant  mutterings.  As  McLean  followed  the  dog 
up  the  old  trail  he  saw,  through  a  break  in  the 
trees,  that  Spit  Point  no  longer  concealed  the  Iris. 
Before  the  fury  of  the  approaching  storm  her 
white  sides  and  house  and  yellow  masts  and  fun- 
nel and  trim,  sweeping,  yacht-like  lines  made  him 
wish  to  be  on  board.  Perhaps  he  could  signal 
her  from  the  wharf;  but,  just  as  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  do  this,  the  incident  of  the  nymph 
occurred  to  make  him  forget  the  Iris  and  her  com- 
forts. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    VOICE    OF    THE    SWAMP 

EVE  was  waiting  in  the  doorway  when  McLean 
reached  the  house,  if  house  indeed  it  could  be 
called,  for  his  first  impression  of  it  was  not  so 
much  of  a  house  as  of  a  huge,  red  brick  chimney, 
towering  and  wide,  which  rose  like  an  ancient 
landmark  from  the  right  wing  of  a  hodgepodge, 
nondescript  wooden  shack  of  later  edition.  So 
tall  was  the  chimney  and  so  squatty  the  low- 
roofed  shack  that  the  former  acquired  an  air  of 
aristocratic  aloofness,  as  though  rearing  its 
haughty  head  to  such  a  height  it  was  able  to 
ignore  and  forget  the  ungainly  plebeian  at  its 
feet. 

The  rain  fell  hard  now  and  the  wind  whipped 
it  along  in  driving  sheets  that  glared  iridescently 
with  each  lightning  flash. 

"Come  in!"  Eye  welcomed  him  with  a  smile. 
"Ain't  nobody  home  'ceptin'  just  me.  Dad's 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  SWAMP       23 

fishin'  and  Plum,  he's  snoozin'  over  to  his  quar- 
ters. Plum  mostly  snoozes  when  it's  right  hot.'* 

"Which  makes  me  think  that  Plum  must  be  a 
very  sensible  fellow.  I  was  wishing  this  morn- 
ing that  I  didn't  have  anything  to  do  but  snooze 
myself,  it  was  so  beastly  hot,"  laughed  McLean. 

"You  don't  look  like  a  nappy-haid,"  the  girl 
remarked  in  a  serious  tone,  regarding  him  frankly. 
"I  just  hate  nappy-haids.  Now  Plum,  'course 
you  got  to  think  about  him  a-bein'  'most  a  hun- 
dred, I  reckon.  He's  different.  How  old  are 
you?' 

"Twenty-four.    Why?" 

"Nothin'.  I  was  just  a-hopin'  you  wasn't  so 
very  old,  that's  all,"  she  replied  casually  and 
closed  the  door. 

McLean  now  found  himself  in  a  room  of  rather 
strange  admixtures  and  striking  contrasts.  The 
great  chimney  place  was,  of  course,  the  dominant 
feature;  yet  hardly  less  impressive  was  the  floor 
of  white  tile,  cracked  and  broken  here  and  there 
as  though  by  intense  heat  or  extremely  rough 
and  careless  usage;  but  it  was,  for  the  most  part, 
in  fairly  good  condition  and  as  clean  as  a  bed 
of  coral.  The  furniture,  with  the  exception  of 


24  EVE,  JUNIOR 

a  magnificent  table  and  armchair  of  mahogany 
for  which  any  connoisseur  of  Chippendale  would 
have  gladly  paid  a  price,  was  rough,  though  ser- 
viceable and  neat.  Everywhere  he  saw  little 
manifestations  of  a  feminine  hand  which  the  crud- 
est furnishings  would  have  failed  to  conceal.  De- 
spite its  peculiar  incongruities,  the  room  pos- 
sessed a  distinctly  charming  and  homelike  atmo- 
sphere. 

The  wind  rose  suddenly  and  banged  a  shutter 
somewhere.  The  next  instant  a  wild,  piercing 
shriek  that  seemed  to  fill  the  shack  and  all  out- 
doors froze  the  blood  in  the  surveyor's  veins.  It 
was  like  nothing  so  much  as  the  terrified  scream 
of  a  woman  facing  mortal  danger.  He  turned  to 
the  girl  in  alarm  to  find  her  covering  her  face  with 
her  hands.  A  sob  shook  her  as  he  spoke. 

"What  was  that?'  he  demanded. 

She  shook  her  head  and,  keeping  her  face  cov- 
ered, answered  fearfully,  "I  don't  know,  'less  it's 
her.  Dad  says  it  is." 

"Her !"  McLean  repeated  vaguely,  as  the  shriek 
came  again.  "Who  is  'her'?" 

"Dad's  wife,  Brookie,"  Eve  replied,  shivering 
anew. 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  SWAMP       25 

"Where  is  she*?"  he  demanded,  looking  around; 
for  the  cry  seemed  very  near. 

"Dad  says,  in  the  swamp,  where  she  got  sucked 
down,"  said  Eve,  uncovering  her  face. 

"But  the  sound  seems  to  come  from  the  chim- 
ney," averred  McLean,  going  toward  the  great 
fireplace  at  the  end  of  the  room. 

It  was  deep  and  dark  with  shadows.  The  cry 
rose  again  and  he  shivered  and  stopped  while  Eve 
came  to  him  as  if  for  protection. 

"How  long  has  this  been  going  on?"  he  asked, 
mystified;  for  the  weird  sounds  seemed  to  leap 
directly  from  the  cavernous  old  chimney-place. 

"Ever  since  the  night  Brookie  went  off  in  the 
storm.  She  never,  never  come  back  any  more  and 
Dad  says  she  got  ketched  in  the  swamp.  It's 
goin'  on  five  years  come  this  Spring  since  she  went. 
Dad,  he  says  I  done  it."  She  hesitated,  crying 
softly. 

"  'Done  it?'  "    McLean  repeated  her  words. 

"Yeh.  Drove  her  away  to  the  swamp.  We-all 
couldn't  get  along  together,  me  and  Brookie. 
She'd  try  to  make  me  do  all  the  work  and  then 
she'd  lay  me  out  to  Dad  when  I'd  run  away  and 
go  sailin'  instid.  So  one  night  it  was  a-rainin'  and 


26  EVE,  JUNIOR 

a-blowin'  like  cats — and  Plum,  he  was  off  with 
Dad  a-fishin' — and  she  tried  to  make  me  go  out 
and  cut  wood  for  the  fire  and  I  said,  'No,  we'd  go 
to  bed  and  wouldn't  need  no  fire,'  and  she  said  she 
was  a-goin'  t'  read — she  had  some  books,  you 
know — and  I  said  if  she  wanted  to  read  she  could 
get  her  own  wood.  So  I  started  to  go  to  bed 
and  she  come  in  and  throwed  a  bucket  o'  water 
on  me  and,  jiminy,  it  was  cold;  and  I  ups  with 
the  lamp  and  it  just  skipped  her  haid.  And  the 
lamp,  it  busted  all  to  smithereens  and  set  things 
on  fire  and  I  began  to  cry.  But  Brookie,  she 
run  for  another  bucket  of  water  and  put  the  fire 
out.  And  then  she  calls  me  some  names  and  puts 
on  her  hat  and  coat  and  packs  up  her  books  and 
some  other  things  o'  her'n  and  off  she  goes  and 
we  ain't  heered  nothin'  of  her  since  'ceptin'  just — 
that."  And  as  the  scream  died  away,  Eve  fell  to 
sobbing  again. 

"I  reckon  it's  a  cuss  on  me  for  what  I  done  that 
night.  I'd  give  anything,  anything,  to  bring  her 
back  again." 

She  laid  a  trembling  hand  on  McLean's  arm  as 
if  to  steady  herself.  Almost  unconsciously  he 
drew  her  to  him,  seeking  clumsily  to  comfort  her. 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  SWAMP       27 

"It's  only  the  wind,  little  girl,"  he  tried  to  as- 
sure her;  but  she  would  not  listen  to  him. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  the  wind  cry  like  this  here 
thing  does'?"  she  challenged. 

"No-o,  I  didn't,"  he  was  forced  to  confess  as 
another  shriek  leaped  from  the  fireplace  and  filled 
the  room  with  its  uncanny  sound.  "It  must  be  the 
chimney,  Eve,  the  wind  in  the  chimney.  Maybe 
it  is  due  to  the  shape  of  it.  Perhaps  I  could  figure 
that  out  by  the  laws  of  acoustics." 

"Sticks  ain't  got  nothin'  to  do  with  it.  It  ain't 
the  chimley — it's  the  swamp,"  she  declared  with 
quiet  conviction.  "Come  here  to  the  door  and 
listen !" 

So  he  followed  her  to  the  door,  which  she 
opened,  and  they  stood  there  in  the  wind  and 
rain  to  wait  for  the  next  weird  cry.  It  came  in  a 
moment,  a  far-flung,  piercing  scream  from  the 
region  of  the  swamp  across  the  mainland.  He 
nodded  and  they  came  in  and  closed  the  door 
again.  McLean  was  puzzled. 

"One  of  them  is  only  an  echo — but  I'll  swear 
I  don't  know  which  one,"  he  said. 

"Plum,  he  knows  about  echoes,"  Eve  spoke  up 
brightly.  "Plum  says  the  chimley's  the  echo." 


28  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"Maybe.  It's  pretty  loud  for  an  echo;  sounds 
more  like  the  original,  to  me.  Besides,  I  never 
knew  of  a  chimney  giving  back  an  echo,  but  these 
swamps  do,  for  I  noticed  it  a  while  ago,"  McLean 
remarked  thoughtfully. 

He  studied  the  chimneyplace  with  a  new  in- 
terest. It  was  a  massive  piece  of  brick  work  with 
a  mantel  and  hearth  of  solid  slabs  of  slate.  Its 
construction  and  appurtenances  were  typical  of  a 
much  earlier  period.  An  old  iron  pot,  swinging 
from  the  crane,  gave  evidence  of  recent  use,  and 
numerous  other  iron  utensils  hanging  on  the  rack 
beside  the  fireplace  seemed  to  indicate  that  the 
simple  meals  of  which  the  shack  could  boast  were 
still  prepared  in  the  manner  of  half  a  century 
and  more  ago. 

Standing  now  almost  in  the  chimneyplace  when 
the  weird  cry  rose  again,  McLean  found  that  the 
sound  did  not  originate  in  the  chimney  at  all,  but 
came,  as  Eve  had  told  him,  from  the  mainland 
and  was  reflected,  or  thrown  back,  by  the  chimney. 
For,  in  spite  of  the  distance  over  which  the  orig- 
inal sound  must  travel,  he  could  plainly  discern 
the  fractional  interval  between  the  cry  from  the 
mainland  and  its  counterpart  in  the  chimney.  The 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  SWAMP       29 

chimney,  he  decided,  must  therefore  be  the  focal 
point  of  the  echo.  At  such  a  place  the  original 
sound  would  be  reproduced  in  nearly  its  full  vol- 
ume; hence  the  impression  he  had  first  received. 

"Plum  is  right,  Eve,"  said  McLean,  stepping 
out  from  the  fireplace;  "the  chimney  is  the  echo, 
but  it's  only  the  wind  in  the  trees  or  something 
of  that  sort  over  in  the  swamp.  You  never  hear 
it  when  the  air  is  still,  do  you?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  replied  with  slow  uncer- 
tainty. "Sometimes  it  comes  in  the  night  and 
wakes  me  up  and  then  I'm  so  skeered  that  I  don't 
know  whether  the  wind's  a-blowin'  or  ain't." 

"Was  it  blowing  the  night  your  stepmother 
went  away*?" 

"Yes,  and  a-rainin'  and  a-lightnin'  in  sheets 
worse'n  now,  and  it  was  only  April,  too,  and  cold 
as  Christmas.  She  ain't  been  gone  long  enough 
to  ford  the  neck  when  comes  an  awful  flash  and 
crash  and  it  seems  like  the  chimley's  a-comin' 
down  on  the  roof  and  then  this  here  screamin' 
begun.  Plum,  he  says  the  lightnin'  burnt  her  up ; 
but  Dad  says  if  it  had  she  wouldn't  a-had  a  chance 
to  screech.  He  don't  put  no  stock  in  the  lightnin' 


30  EVE,  JUNIOR 

a- tall.  He  thinks  the  swamp  got  her,  kind  o'  slow, 
like." 

McLean  shuddered  and  smiled  grimly. 

"And  what  do  you  think*?"  he  asked. 

"Me?  I  don't  know's  I  think  a-tall,"  Eve  re- 
plied slowly,  looking  into  the  fireplace  as  though 
she  were  waiting  for  the  next  weird  cry  to  come. 
"I  hate  to  believe  in  ha'nts  and  such;  but  I  reckon 
this  here  must  be  one,  don't  you*?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  the  surveyor  denied  positively, 
while  deep  down  in  his  heart  he  had  begun  to  feel 
a  real  desire,  not  entirely  bred  of  curiosity,  to 
know  what  it  was  himself. 

The  wind  had  slackened  somewhat  now;  but 
the  rain  still  poured  in  torrents.  The  cries  came 
at  intervals,  though  McLean  was  sure  they  were 
dying  with  the  wind,  for  they  grew  fainter  and 
less  frequent.  The  electrical  display  was  passing, 
too,  and  the  thunder  rolled  in  the  distance.  In 
the  midst  of  the  steady  downpour  the  door  opened 
and  an  old  negro  of  uncertain  age  came  in,  shaking 
the  rain  from  his  bare,  woolly,  white  head  as  a 
pearl  diver  shakes  the  water  from  his  ears  at  the 
surface. 

He  was  neither  tall  nor  short,  fat  or  lean,  but 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  SWAMP      31 

old — McLean  felt  that  he  was  looking  upon  the 
revivified  mummy  of  Rameses.  And  yet  he  was 
as  straight  as  the  foremast  on  the  Iris.  His  skin 
was  as  wrinkled  as  the  hide  on  the  flanks  of  a  lean 
elephant;  yet  it  possessed  a  strange  vitality  and 
youthfulness  of  color,  for  it  was  of  the  velvety, 
blue-black  hue  of  the  skin  of  a  rich,  ripe  plum. 
And  that  was  what  Eve  called  him. 

"Hello,  Plum!"  she  said,  in  louder  tones  than 
McLean  had  heard  her  use  before.  "Storm  wake 
you  up*?" 

The  old  negro's  eyes  had  been  on  the  surveyor. 
He  looked  at  Eve  now,  transformed  his  wrinkles 
into  a  grin,  and  cupped  his  hand  at  his  ear. 
"Hey*?"  he  ejaculated,  in  a  voice  that  seemed  to 
come  down  through  the  ages,  adding,  "What  kin 
ole  Plum  do  fer  li'l  Missy'?" 

"Did  you  hear  her  to-day,  Plum?"  Eve  inquired 
of  him,  anxiously. 

He  nodded  in  affirmation  and  his  smile  faded 
back  into  the  wrinkles  of  extreme  gravity.  "Yas, 
ole  Plum  heered  her.  He  reckoned  li'l  Missy  was 
all  by  herself  and  'lowed  she*  mount  be  skeered, 
so  he  come,"  he  said  simply,  in  his  eccentric  way 


32  EVE,  JUNIOR 

of  always  speaking  in  the  third  person;  and  his 
eyes  went  back  in  question  to  the  stranger. 

Eve  turned  to  McLean  and  spoke  in  lowered 
tones.  "You'd  best  tell  Plum  who  you  be,  I 
reckon,"  she  counseled,  smiling  up  at  him.  "He's 
funny  about  the  likes  o'  that.  I  'spect  he's  a-wait- 
in'  for  you  to  say  somethin'  now." 

McLean  laughed.  "Oh,  I  see.  Plum  is  your 
guardian  angel,  is  he?"  He  turned  to  the  old 
negro  and  raised  his  voice,  for  it  was  evident  that 
Plum's  hearing  had  suffered  somewhat  with  the 
passing  years. 

"I  am  a  surveyor  from  the  government  vessel 
lying  out  there  off  Spit  Point.  Just  happened 
along  here  in  time  for  the  squall  and  Miss  Eve 
very  kindly  asked  me  in,"  he  explained  to  the  old 
negro. 

Plum  acknowledged  him  with  a  bow  and  a 
mumbled,  "Yas,  Suh!  Yas,  Suh!"  and  proceed- 
ed to  the  fireplace,  where  he  busied  himself  in 
preparing  kindling  and  driftwood  from  a  box  in 
the  corner  in  a  pile  for  lighting  on  the  andirons. 

Eve  offered  McLean  the  Chippendale  armchair 
and,  drawing  a  stool  quite  near  for  herself,  sat 
down  with  her  chin  in  her  hands. 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  SWAMP       33 

"You  see  Plum,  he's  been  here,  oh!  ever  and 
ever  so  long,"  she  said.  "Ain't  nobody,  I  reckon, 
knows  how  old  he  is.  'Course  he  don't  know, 
neither.  Darkies,  they  never  do,  you  know.  But 
I  reckon  he's  'most  a  hundred,  anyways,  'cause 
Dad,  he  says  that  Plum  was  just  as  old  lookin' 
when  he  was  a  leetle  boy  as  he  is  now.  And 
Grandpa,  he  told  Dad  that  Plum's  head  was  gray 
when  they  got  him ;  and  that  was  years  and  years 
before  the  mansion  burnt." 

"The  mansion!"  McLean  echoed,  thinking 
vaguely  of  the  old  road,  the  great  chimney  and 
the  tiled  floor  under  his  feet.  "What  mansion'?" 

Eve  grew  suddenly  grave. 

"Oh,  'course  you  don't  know  about  the  mansion. 
This  here  floor's  part  of  it;  so's  that  there  chim- 
ley  and  the  fireplace  and  all.  And  the  cheer  you're 
a-settin'  on  and  this  here  table's  all  that's  left  of 
the  stuff  that  was  in  it.  All  the  rest  got  burnt  up 
when  the  mansion  did.  Plum,  he  got  them  two 
things  out  'cause  he  said  Grandpa  said  they'd 
come  all  the  way  from,  oh,  I  don't  know  where, 
across  the  water,  somewheres.  And  Grandpa 
thought  a  heap  of  'em.  And  he  carried  Dad  out, 
too,  Plum  did,  'cause  Dad  was  just  a  leetle  boy 


34  EVE,  JUNIOR 

and  it  was  night  time  and  he  was  asleep  in  the 
big  room  upstairs." 

"But  what  became  of  your  grandparents'?" 
asked  McLean,  interested. 

"Oh,  Grandpa  and  Grandma,  they  were  dead  a 
long  time  before  the  mansion  burnt.  Old  Plum, 
he  buried  them  over  yonder  under  the  big  willow 
that  kind  o'  droops  all  the  time.  Maybe  you 
seen  the  willow  when  you  come  by.  Dad  buried 
my  mother  there  along  side  of  'em,  later  on.  But  I 
was  so  leetle  that  I  don't  remember." 

"But  didn't  your  dad  have  any  relatives,  any 
aunts  or  uncles  or  any  one  to  take  care  of  him 
when  his  parents  died1?" 

"Nope,  not  'ary  one;  nobody  but  old  Plum. 
You  see,  Grandma  and  Grandpa,  they  wasn't  born 
in  this  country  like  me  and  you  and  Dad  was. 
They  come  over  here  from  some  place  'way  across 
the  ocean  'cause  some  old  king  or  somethin'  said 
that  if  they  didn't  pick  up  sticks  and  git  he'd  chop 
off  their  heads,  or  somethin'  like  that.  And  so 
they  just  had  to  grab  what  they  could  ketch  and 
run  for  the  next  boat.  And  that's  how  it  come 
they  come  to  this  here  island  and  built  the  man- 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  SWAMP       35 

sion  and  all,  and  bought  old  Plum,  too,  I  reckon, 
'cause  Plum,  he  says  he  used  to  be  a  slave." 

"I  wonder  why  they  chose  the  island  instead 
of  building  on  the  mainland?"  McLean  mused, 
half  aloud. 

"Can't  tell,  'less  it  was  'cause  they  wanted  to 
be  off  to  theirselves,  like,  away  from  the  rest  of 
folks.  Now  Plum,  he  says  it  was  'cause  they'd 
been  used  to  livin'  in  a  great  big  old  house  with 
a  moat  all  around  it,  whatever  that  is." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  the  surveyor  rejoined.  "Plum 
meant  a  castle,  a  great,  old-fashioned  mansion, 
with  a  big,  wide  trench  dug  around  it  and  filled 
with  water  to  keep  out  enemies.  There  must 
have  been  a  drawbridge,  too." 

"Yeh,  there  was  a  drawbridge,"  Eve  agreed 
with  emphasis.  "Plum,  he  told  about  that,  too;  I 
remember  now." 

"Well,  aren't  there  any  papers  or  letters  or 
books  or  anything  to  show  who  your  grandparents 
were  related  to  and  where  they  came  from  when 
they  came  here?" 

"Nope,  I  reckon  they  ain't,  'cause  everything 
got  burnt  up  'ceptin'  just  this  here  stuff  I  told  you 
about.  Plum,  he  said  he  'lowed  Grandpa  had  a 


36  EVE,  JUNIOR 

hidin'  place  around  here  for  his  money  and  things 
'cause  he  never  had  anything  to  do  with  banks 
and  the  like.  But  I  reckon  there's  no  tellin'  about 
that  now,  is  there?" 

"I  don't  know,"  McLean  replied,  thoughtfully; 
"but  I  do  think  that  some  effort  should  be  made 
to  locate  your  relatives  and  to  trace  your  grand- 
father's connections  in  this  country,  as  well,  for  it 
is  evident  that  he  was  a  man  of  means.  What 
is  your  last  name,  Eve?" 

"Carroll,"  the  girl  replied,  "and  Dad's  name  is 
Tilghman  Skipworth  Carroll,  but  nobody  ever 
calls  him  anything  'ceptin'  'Skip,'  or  maybe  some- 
times 'Skipper/  " 

"Carroll  is  English  and  it  is  a  good  name  to 
bear  in  Maryland,  Eve ;  and  so  is  Tilghman.  For 
the  sake  of  you  and  your  father  and  the  future 
of  both  of  you,  this  thing  ought  to  be  looked 
into,"  he  told  her  earnestly.  "When  will  your 
father  be  back  from  his  fishing1?" 

"Oh,  if  it  keeps  on  rainin',  Dad  may  lay  out 
'til  the  next  tide.  That'd  put  him  in  about  dark. 
I  wisht  you  could  stay  'til  he  comes.  I  reckon 
Dad' 11  like  you,"  she  finished,  smiling. 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  SWAMP      37 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  the  surveyor 
asked,  a  trifle  puzzled. 

"Oh,  'cause  Dad,  he  mostly  likes  things  and 
people  that  I  like,"  she  replied  with  a  frank,  un- 
conscious artlessness  that  rather  startled  McLean. 

"Ole  Plum's  done  got  de  fire  a-goin'  fo'  li'l 
Missy,"  the  ancient  negro  announced.  "Ain't  no 
let-up  to  dis  here  storm  a-tall,  'pears  like.  Ole 
Plum  'spec'  'de  survey'  gent'man'll  be  gittin'  kind 
o'  hongry,  by'n  by,"  he  suggested  with  a  broad 
smile. 

Eve  laughed. 

"All  right,  Plum,  thank  you.  I  'spec'  ole  Plum 
is  kind  o'  hongry  right  this  minute,"  she  mocked 
shrewdly.  "Never  mind,  I'll  have  some  dinner 
ready  in  a  jiffy." 


CHAPTER   III 

THE    KISS 

EVE  was  quick  to  perceive  McLean's  aversion 
to  stewed  pickled  eel,  which  formed  the  piece  de 
resistance  of  the  menu  she  offered  her  guest.  His 
efforts  at  peeling  Irish  potatoes,  served  in  their 
jackets,  brought  tears  of  laughter  to  her  eyes. 
Then  she  sobered  suddenly  and,  flushing  a  little, 
remarked  with  quaint  contrition, 

"I  reckon  I  had  ought  to  skin  'em  before  I  put 
'em  on  the  table  but  Dad,  he'd  rather  have  'em 
in  their  jackets.  Here,  let  me  take  them  skins  off 
for  you.  Don't  you  like  eels?" 

"Why,  yes,"  McLean  lied  poorly  as  he  sepa- 
rated a  piece  of  the  dark  flesh  from  the  long,  sinu- 
ous backbone.  "The  flavor  is  very  rich  and 
meaty." 

Eve  smiled  with  quick  understanding  and  put 
a  peeled  potato  on  his  plate.  "I'm  awful  sorry 
we  ain't  got  any  other  kind  of  fish  or  meat.  Try 
38 


THE  KISS  39 

the  flapjacks  with  some  of  that  there  quince  jelly. 
I  put  it  up  myself  last  fall.  If  I'd  o'  thought 
about  you  maybe  not  likin'  eel,  I'd  'a'  fried  a 
couple  o'  chickens.  Dad  taken  all  the  aigs  to  town 
yesterday." 

"I'm  really  quite  fond  of  eel  and  very  well 
satisfied,  thank  you,"  McLean  replied,  making  a 
valiant  effort  to  finish  his  portion  of  the  reptilian- 
looking  fish. 

Eve  looked  at  him  mischievously,  but  when  he 
glanced  up  at  her  she  was  quick  to  assume  an 
expression  of  gravity. 

"Ever  seen  eels  a-rompin'  along  in  the  shallows 
inshore,  a-playin'  with  them  long,  black  water 
snakes  that  dart  in  and  out  amongst  the  hog- 
grass?"  she  asked  with  casual  innocence. 

"No — do  they1?"  McLean  inquired  anxiously 
as  he  pushed  the  remaining  bits  of  eel  to  one  side 
of  his  plate. 

Eve's  eyes  danced  as  she  watched  him. 

"Yep,"  she  asserted  incisively,  "they  sure  do. 
Dad  often  gets  'em — all  kinds — in  a  haul.  Some- 
times he  says  he  can't  tell  'em  apart,  they're  that 
much  alike." 

"I  hope  he  didn't  make  any  mistake  about  this 


4-O  EVE,  JUNIOR 

one,"  the  guest  rejoined  wryly,  making  a  mental 
estimate  from  the  amount  remaining  on  his  plate 
as  to  how  much  of  this  questionable  water  denizen 
he  had  eaten. 

Eve  laughed  outright  and  selected  a  large  piece 
of  eel  which  she  ate  with  apparent  relish,  much 
to  the  surveyor's  disgust. 

Plum  came  in  presently  and  stood  in  the  chim- 
ney corner,  waiting  for  them  to  finish.  In  a  lit- 
tle while  they  were  through  and  the  old  negro 
sat  down  with  alacrity.  Eve  placed  his  victuals 
before  him  and  began  to  clear  away  the  other 
dishes.  Plum  watched  her  for  a  few  minutes 
with  a  curious  patience  and  then  entered  a  mild 
complaint  in  his  characteristic,  indirect  manner. 

"Ain't  li'l  Missy  a-fergittin'  ole  Plum  to-day?" 

"Nope.  I  been  a-waitin'  to  see  if  you'd  remem- 
ber," Eve  replied  as  she  went  to  the  cupboard. 

From  a  small  locker  underneath  the  shelves  she 
took  a  wicker  demijohn  and  poured  a  scant  "two 
fingers"  of  red  liquor  in  a  wine  glass  that  stood 
beside  the  jug,  whereat  Plum,  observing  the  quan- 
tity, coaxed  for  more. 

"Aw,  please,  just  another  drap  for  ole  Plum! 


THE  KISS  41 

Li'l  Missy  mought  make  hit  just  another  drap  to- 
day." 

Eve  added  to  the  liquor  in  the  glass  a  very  lit- 
tle more. 

"There,  Plum,"  she  said  as  she  handed  it  to 
him.  "That's  a  good  two  ringers.  Now  don't 
you  beg  for  another  speck." 

"Aw,  li'l  Missy  mought  make  hit  three  dis  here 
time.  Why  ole  Plum's  all  kind  o'  tuckered  out 
to-day,"  the  old  negro  pleaded. 

"Well,  you'll  feel  a  right  smart  better  when 
you've  et  your  dinner,  Plum.  Victuals  are  a  heap 
better'n  whiskey  when  you're  all  tuckered  out," 
Eve  told  him  quietly. 

"Please,  just  another  drap  dis  time  an'  ole 
Plum'll  never  bother  li'l  Missy  no  mo',"  he 
cajoled. 

"No,  Plum,  not  another  drop,"  said  Eve  with 
decision.  "If  I  gave  you  more  now  you'd  want 
just  as  much  to-morrow  and  still  more  the  next 
day.  In  a  week  you'd  have  the  jug  and  then  the 
Old  Boy'd  have  you." 

She  put  the  demijohn  back  in  the  cupboard 
and  closed  the  door  decisively;  and  Plum,  seeing 
that  further  coaxing  would  avail  him  nothing, 


42  EVE,  JUNIOR 

drained  his  glass,  smacked  his  lips  and  attacked 
his  food  with  the  vigor  born  of  an  excellent  ap- 
petite. McLean  now  saw  that  Plum  found  eel 
an  inviting  dish,  for  the  old  negro  was  soon 
noisily  sucking  the  meat  from  the  backbone  of 
a  big,  brownish  fellow  that  Eve  had  served  to 
him. 

"I  suppose  Plum's  little  drink  is  a  daily  per- 
formance," McLean  suggested  with  a  smile  as 
Eve  came  over  to  the  window  where  he  stood. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  laughing,  "I  reckon  me 
and  him  have  gone  over  pretty  much  them  self- 
same antics  every  day  since  I  was  right  small. 

"Would  you  like  to  see  some  of  the  things  I've 
drawed4?"  she  presently  inquired. 

McLean  said  that  he  would;  and  Eve  promptly 
produced  a  generous  armful  of  sketches. 

The  drawings  were,  for  the  most  part,  sketches 
of  nearby  scenes  and  of  animals  or  fowls  either 
domestic  or  native  to  the  surrounding  country. 
Some  of  them  he  recognized  at  once:  the  shack, 
with  its  great  chimney  towering  above  it  like  a 
monument  to  the  glory  that  was  past;  the  weeping 
willow,  with  its  unmarked  mounds  beneath;  Spit 
Point,  from  Eve's  lookout  at  the  foot  of  the  great 


THE  KISS  43 

water  oak,  and  Tip,  the  shaggy  Chesapeake  dog 
that  had  welcomed  him  to  the  island — all  of  them 
rendered  with  a  true  sense  of  proportion  and  fidel- 
ity of  detail,  yet  with  that  fine  artistic  touch  that 
is  the  soul  of  the  picture  evident  in  every  stroke 
of  the  pencil. 

There  was  a  sketch  of  a  catboat  that  especially 
interested  McLean.  The  little  vessel  was  so  sturdy- 
looking  and  yet  so  graceful,  too.  With  its  main- 
sail set  it  swung  at  anchor  off  the  wharf  near  the 
outer  end  of  the  island. 

"That's  my  old  catty,"  Eve  explained,  noting 
his  interest  in  the  sketch. 

"I'd  like  to  see  the  boat  itself,"  he  said.  "This 
sketch  is  great.  Your  talent  for  drawing,  Eve,  is 
nothing  less  than  genius.  It  deserves  to  be  de- 
veloped under  the  guidance  of  the  best  masters. 
Have  you  ever  had  any  instructions,  lessons  or 
anything?" 

"Lessons,"  Eve  pondered.  "You  mean  books'?" 

"No,  but  didn't  some  one  show  you  how  to  draw 
— some  one  who  could  do  this  sort  of  thing,  too?" 
he  suggested. 

"Oh,  no,"  Eve  promptly  replied,  as  she  saw 
what  he  meant,  "nobody  ever  shown  me  anything. 


44  EVE,  JUNIOR 

I  just  seen  things  and  drawed  'em.  I  reckon  I 
always  could  draw,  some.  'Pears  like  I  don't 
ever  remember  startin'  a-tall.  You  can  see  this 
here  catty  'most  any  time  when  the  rain  stops. 
She's  a-layin'  just  offen  the  wharf,  like  you  see 
her  in  the  picture.  I'll  sail  you  out  to  your  ship 
if  there's  any  wind  later  on,  and  you  want  me  to." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  if  you  will,  thanks.  What 
is  the  name  of  your  boat?" 

"I  call  her  East  Wind^  'cause  she  sails  better 
when  the  wind  is  off  to  the  east'ard  and  she  'pears 
to  love  it  best  of  all  the  winds  that  blow.  And 
so  do  I,  'cause  it's  always  so  strong  and  steady 
and  it  never  fails  you.  And  it  smells  so  fresh 
and  clean  and  damp  and  salty,  too,  'cause,  you 
know,  it  come  'cross  miles  and  miles  of  open 
water  'way  out  there  where  the  sea  is.  Have  you 
ever  been  to  sea?" 

"Yes,  often.  We  came  up  here  from  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico  last  winter." 

"What  is  the  sea  like?" 

"You  are  asking  me  something  that  is  very 
hard  to  answer,  Eve,"  the  surveyor  replied  with 
quiet  reverence.  "Just  think  of  yourself  sitting 
there  in  the  cockpit  of  your  catboat  in  the  midst 


THE  KISS  45 

of  a  great  body  of  water  whose  shores  you  would 
never  reach  in  weeks  and  weeks  of  sailing,  even 
with  the  wind  abeam — the  fastest  sailing  wind 
there  is.  Well,  that  is  the  sea:  just  sky  and  air 
and  water  and  God." 

"I've  often  wondered  about  it  and  when  I  do 
it  always  kind  o'  takes  my  breath  and  makes  my 
heart  jump  up  and  down  and  pound  like  a  boat 
close-hauled  in  a  head  sea.  There's  somethin' 
terrible  about  so  much  waves  and  wind  and  water 
as  that  must  be,  and  somethin'  grand,  too.  It's 
like  the  hand  o'  God  spread  out  to  grip  your  soul 
and  hold  it  to  Him  when  your  knees  get  all  trim- 
bly  and  you're  a- feared  to  turn  and  run.  I've  felt 
that-a-way  right  here  in  Bodkin  when  the  east 
wind  licked  in  from  the  bay.  It  makes  you  feel 
kind  o'  leetle  and  all  alone,  like,  with  so  much 
bigness  all  around  you  and  you're  kind  o'  skeered 
and  happy  all  at  the  same  time  without  a-knowin' 
just  why." 

McLean  turned  from  the  sketch  of  the  catboat 
to  study  the  girl  with  a  newly  awakened  interest. 
He  felt  that  for  the  briefest  moment  it  had  been 
permitted  him  to  glimpse  her  soul  and  the  sight 
of  it  was  good. 


46  EVE,  JUNIOR 

In  physical  perfection,  too,  Eve  was  remark- 
able. The  smooth,  sweeping  curves  of  her  vigor- 
ous young  body  were  not  molded  and  massaged 
into  shape  by  any  human  devices  nor  confined  by 
any  artificial  means;  they  were  simply  muscles 
modeled  by  Nature  and  molded  and  strengthened 
into  firm  shapeliness  by  her  active  life  in  the  open. 
Her  features,  too,  had  gained,  rather  than  suffered, 
from  exposure,  for  they  possessed  a  delicate  de- 
termination and  ruggedness  that  added  to  the 
glory  of  their  health  and  beauty  in  a  way  that 
cosmetics  would  have  vainly  mocked.  She  turned 
from  the  window  and  surprised  his  admiring 
glances. 

"I  reckon  the  rain's  about  done  for,"  she  re- 
marked, flushing  ever  so  little. 

A  little  later,  when  patches  of  blue  began  to 
show  through  the  scurrying  clouds  overhead,  Eve 
and  the  surveyor  went  down  to  the  wharf  at  the 
outer  end  of  the  island.  Here  the  catboat  was 
moored,  stern  line  to  the  wharf  log,  head  anchored 
out. 

With  the  passing  of  the  storm  the  wind  died 
and  they  had  to  abandon  Eve's  suggestion  of  re- 
turning McLean  to  the  Iris  in  the  catboat.  Pres- 


THE  KISS  47 

ently  the  sun  came  out  and  the  surveyor  began 
to  signal  his  vessel  by  means  of  a  small  convex 
mirror  which  he  carried  in  his  pocket.  Finally, 
the  Iris  answered  him  with  a  short  blast  of  the 
whistle  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  cutter  put 
out  toward  them. 

Eve  fell  silent  for  an  interval,  during  which 
she  thoughtfully  watched  the  oncoming  boat. 
Suddenly  she  turned  to  her  companion  and  asked, 
"Is  your  name  really  'Adam"?" 

The  surveyor  laughed.  "No,  it  is  Douglas  Mc- 
Lean. Why?" 

"Oh,  that's  a  heap  better.  I  hate  'Adam.' 
What  made  you  say  \t  was  'Adam'  ?" 

"Well,  you  said  yours  was  Eve " 

"So  'tis  Eve.     What  o'  that?" 

"Why,  Eve  made  me  think  of  'Adam,'  that's 
all." 

"Well,  I  don't  see  what's  Adam  got  to  do  with 
it.  Who's  this  here  'Adam'?" 

"The  first  man  in  the  Bible — Eve's  husband." 

"The  Bible,"  Eve  repeated,  groping  vaguely 
for  the  connection  in  her  memory;  then,  of  a  sud- 
den, she  recalled  it.  "Oh,  yes !  Brookie  had  the 
Bible  but  she  taken  it  with  her.  I  used  to  coax 


48  EVE,  JUNIOR 

her  to  read  me  about  it  but  she'd  just  say  I 
wouldn't  understand,  nohow.  I  reckon  that's 
how  it  come  I  never  heered  about  this  'Adam.'  " 

"The  next  time  I  come  over,  Eve,  I'll  bring  a 
Bible  with  me  and  read  you  the  Book  of  Gene- 
sis," McLean  told  her  with  quick  resolution. 
"Reading  the  Bible  aloud,  or  otherwise,  is  some- 
what out  of  my  line;  but  I  think  you  at  least 
ought  to  know  about  the  Creation." 

"I  reckon  I  had  ought  to,"  Eve  admitted  grave- 
ly. "When  might  you  be  a-comin'  again  *?" 

"Just  as  soon  as  I  can,"  he  replied  sincerely. 
"To-morrow  evening,  perhaps.  I  want  to  see  your 
father,  too,  the  next  time  I  come." 

The  cutter,  diverging  from  its  course  to  avoid 
the  sandbar  that  reached  out  from  the  southern 
end  of  the  island,  was  for  the  moment  obscured 
by  the  high  bank  near  the  wharf.  Eve  was  lean- 
ing on  a  pilehead  looking  thoughtfully  at  a  school 
of  alewives  disporting  in  the  sunlight  near  the  sur- 
face. Suddenly  she  turned  and  faced  her  tall 
companion.  Her  hand  sought  his  arm  with  a 
touch  that  thrilled  him.  He  looked  down  into 
her  upturned  face  and  she  met  his  eyes  with  the 


THE  KISS  49 

frank  fearlessness  of  a  child,  her  own  eyes  deep 
with  newly  awakened  feeling. 

"I  reckon  I  kind  o'  like  you,"  she  told  him  in 
her  soft,  violin-like  tones. 

He  felt  the  sudden  tide  of  hot  blood  sweep- 
ing to  his  neck  and  face  and  temples.  Before 
he  realized  what  he  was  doing  he  was  crushing 
her  in  his  arms  while  his  lips  sought  hers  and 
found  them  in  an  unresisted  kiss  that  filled  his 
very  soul  with  sweet  content. 

It  was  at  this  full  moment  that  the  tail  of  his 
eye  caught  the  cutter  moving  swiftly  into  view 
past  the  bank.  Reluctantly  he  permitted  Eve  to 
slip  from  his  arms. 

She  stood  for  a  moment  facing  him,  her  eyes 
ablaze,  her  cheeks  scarlet,  her  attitude  defiant 
— and  then — the  fire  faded  out  of  her  eyes  and 
a  smile  came  in  to  take  its  place. 

The  next  instant  she  was  gone. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE    CONSEQUENCE 

As  the  cutter  drew  in  alongside  of  the  wharf 
McLean  saw  that  Caleb  Johnson,  first  officer  of 
the  7m,  was  in  charge  of  it.  The  surveyor  had 
never  liked  "Cabe,"  as  the  mate  was  familiarly 
known,  and  he  had  good  reason  to  believe  that 
Cabe  entertained  a  similar  dislike  for  him.  John- 
son had  been  in  the  service  but  a  short  time.  And 
beyond  the  fact  that  he  had  made  a  capable  and 
efficient  first  officer,  little  was  known  of  him. 

McLean's  dislike  for  the  man  was  a  subtile,  in- 
tangible, unreasoning  aversion  that  he  could  not 
explain.  Sometimes  he  felt  that  it  was  merely 
a  repugnance  to  Johnson's  outward  appearance, 
for  though  he  was  a  tall,  well-built  and  rather 
good-looking  fellow,  his  eyes,  which  were  of  a 
distant  and  unfriendly  gray,  were  set  a  trifle 
too  close  together. 

Though  Johnson  had  never  openly  indicated 
50 


'I  reckon  I  kind  o'  like  you,"  she  told  him  in  her  soft 
violin-like  tones 


THE  CONSEQUENCE  51 

it,  McLean  knew  that  Cabe  harbored  "a  quiet  con- 
tempt for  his  youth  and  inexperience.  The,  young 
surveyor  had  been  quickly  advanced  to  chief  of 
party  and  given  complete  charge  of  the  7m,  a 
commission  which  Johnson  sullenly  resented,  for 
he  felt  that  the  position  should  have  gone  to  an 
older  and  more  experienced  man.  He  resented, 
too,  the  idea  of  having  to  take  orders  from  a  man 
ten  years  his  junior. 

As  McLean  boarded  the  cutter  Johnson  saluted 
him,  frowning. 

"To  the  7m,  Sir*?"  he  asked  glumly. 

McLean  nodded  affirmation  and  sat  down  in 
the  sternsheets.  Johnson  gave  his  orders  to  the 
quartermaster  and  the  cutter  backed  out,  reversed 
and  headed  down  stream. 

"Didn't  know  you  were  acquainted  around 
here,"  the  mate  remarked  with  casual  sarcasm. 

"I'm  not,"  McLean  replied  shortly. 

"What  do  you  call  it,  then*?"  asked  Johnson 
with  unpleasant  insistence. 

"Call  what,  Mr.  Johnson?"  the  surveyor 
drawled  to  evade  the  issue,  for  he  realized  that 
Cabe  must  have  seen  the  episode  of  the  kiss. 

"Oh,  the  girl  on  the  wharf,  you  know  what  I 


52  EVE,  JUNIOR 

mean.  Quick  work,  eh?"  Johnson  laughed  sug- 
gestively. 

McLean  flushed  with  sudden  anger.  "I  found 
her  a  very  charming  child,"  he  replied  tartly. 

"Quite  charming,  indeed,"  mocked  the  mate 
with  an  unpleasant  laugh.  "Oh,  quite,  I  assure 
you.  Yes,  I  noticed  that  myself.  Some  child, 
Chief,  if  you'll  pardon  my  saying  so,  some  child. 
Rather  precocious,  too,  for  one  so  young.  Make 
a  date,  did  you?" 

"I  don't  consider  it  any  of  your  damned  busi- 
ness whether  I  did  or  not,"  McLean  retorted 
hotly. 

"Come,  now,  Chief,"  said  Johnson,  slurring  the 
title  in  a  way  that  made  it  biting  sarcasm,  "come, 
what's  the  use  of  getting  sore  over  a  fisherman's 
whelp?" 

"Johnson,  the  less  you  and  I  have  to  say  to  one 
another  the  better  we'll  get  along,"  the  surveyor 
counseled  quietly.  "What  happened  there  on  the 
wharf  was  entirely  my  fault  and  very  unfortu- 
nate for  the — the  girl.  I  don't  care  to  hear  any 
more  about  it." 

"Very  gallant  of  you  to  take  all  the  blame  on 


THE  CONSEQUENCE  53, 

yourself.  I  wonder  if  the  next  one  will  do  as 
much1?"  sneered  Cabe. 

"Just  what  do  you  mean  by  'the  next  one"?" 
McLean  demanded  with  feeling. 

"Oh,  shucks,  Chief,  these  river  snipes  are  all 
alike.  The  sky's  their  limit  and  they'll  go  it  with 
anybody.  But  I  guess  you  know  that  by  now. 
No  exception,  was  she?" 

"You'll  go  ashore  with  me  for  that,"  McLean 
flung  back  in  passion. 

"I'll  do  no  such  a  thing,"  the  mate  replied  with 
a  contemptuous  laugh  that  brought  the  younger 
man  to  his  feet. 

But  Cabe  only  grinned  up  at  him  and  sat  quite 
still.  McLean  turned  to  the  quartermaster  and 
ordered  the  cutter's  course  directed  to  a  landing 
near  Spit  Point. 

"Hold  your  course  to  the  Jm,  my  boy,"  the 
mate  coolly  contradicted. 

"Put  in  at  that  landing  or  I'll  report  you  both 
for  insubordination,"  McLean  warned  with  calm 
determination. 

Johnson  laughed  again  but  said  nothing  and 
the  quartermaster  headed  the  cutter  toward  the 
landing  which  the  younger  man  had  designated. 


54  EVE,  JUNIOR 

As  the  cutter  came  alongside  of  the  bulkhead  Mc- 
Lean sprang  ashore. 

"I'm  waiting  for  you,  Mr.  Johnson,"  he  called 
when  he  saw  that  the  mate  had  made  no  effort  to 
follow  him. 

"Well,  wait  and  be  damned,"  Cabe  replied, 
coolly  crossing  his  legs. 

"You're  a  miserable  coward  if  you  won't  come 
ashore,"  McLean  taunted  hotly. 

"You'll  be  a  jelly  fish  if  I  do,"  was  the  mate's 
contemptuous,  laughing  threat. 

"Johnson,  I've  always  thought  there  was  a  yel- 
low streak  in  you,  and  now  I  know  it.  You're 
a  blackguard  and  a  coward." 

"And  you're  a  dam'  fool  and  a  cripple — crip- 
pled in  the  head — and  I  don't  fight  youngsters  so 
afflicted,"  the  mate  replied  with  his  nonchalant, 
sneering  laugh. 

McLean  turned  and  walked  back  to  the  bulk- 
head as  if  to  board  the  cutter  again.  Johnson 
was  sitting  in  the  sternsheets  directly  below  him. 
Suddenly  the  surveyor  stooped,  gripped  the  mate 
firmly  by  the  collar  of  his  tunic  and,  lifting  him 
clear  of  the  cutter,  tumbled  him  into  the  shallow 
water  between  the  boat  and  the  bulkhead  before 


THE  CONSEQUENCE  55 

the  man,  taken  thus  unawares,  had  time  to  re- 
alize what  was  happening  to  him. 

In  a  moment  Cabe  was  climbing  out  again,  his 
head  and  shoulders  covered  with  long,  green, 
matted  fronds  of  hog-grass  that  gave  him  the 
rather  ludicrous  appearance  of  a  puffy,  overgrown 
bull-frog.  And  as  he  came  up  over  the  bulkhead 
he  sputtered  and  swore  in  a  way  that  indicated 
that  he  would  no  longer  require  coaxing  to  fight. 

Shaking  the  water  and  grass  from  him  as  he 
came,  the  mate  made  a  savage  lunge  for  McLean, 
who  avoided  the  attack  and,  circling  deftly,  swung 
a  smashing  right  to  Johnson's  ear.  Blind  with 
rage,  the  older  man  turned  and  made  as  if  to 
run  his  adversary  overboard,  but  the  surveyor 
sidestepped  his  rush  and,  landing  heavily  on  the 
hinge  of  his  opponent's  jaw,  backed  away  toward 
the  shore.  Johnson  followed,  vainly  seeking  an 
opportunity  to  clinch. 

Once  on  dry  land,  Johnson  plunged  at  him  with 
his  head  down  like  a  mad  bull,  raining  blows  right 
and  left.  Fortunately,  McLean,  having  plenty  of 
foot  room,  was  able  to  avoid  most  of  them,  taking 
only  such  as  he  was  compelled  to  in  order  to  reach 
the  mate's  chin  and  mouth  in  a  way  that  sent 


56  EVE,  JUNIOR 

the  man  reeling  backward  with  the  blood  stream- 
ing from  his  lips.  The  younger  man  followed  up 
his  momentary  advantage  with  a  wind-fetching 
punch  to  the  pit  of  Johnson's  stomach.  This  half 
doubled  the  mate  up  with  pain  and  McLean,  clos- 
ing in,  reached  his  face  again  and  again.  And  at 
last  Johnson  sank  heavily  upon  the  ground. 

At  this  juncture  the  crew  of  the  cutter  inter- 
fered, for  Johnson  was  nearly  exhausted. 

"I  think  he's  had  enough,  Sir,"  the  quartermas- 
ter ventured.  "You'd  better  come  aboard." 

McLean  broke  away  from  the  peacemakers  and 
stood  over  his  sprawling  adversary,  waiting  for 
him  to  get  up  that  he  might  knock  him  down 
again.  But  Johnson  made  no  attempt  to  regain 
his  feet.  His  breath  came  quick  and  short  and 
his  face  and  coat  were  smeared  and  splotched 
with  blood.  Already  his  eyes  were  swollen  and 
badly  discolored. 

McLean  stirred  Johnson  none  too  gently  with 
his  foot. 

"Apologize  for  the  girl's  sake,  damn  you,"  he 
demanded. 

The  mate  muttered  a  curse  and  began  to  get 
to  his  feet.  The  surveyor  waited  until  he  had 


THE  CONSEQUENCE  57 

risen.  The  moment  Johnson  had  regained  his  feet 
he  made  a  weak,  ineffectual  attempt  to  lunge  at 
the  younger  man.  As  he  did  so  McLean's  right 
caught  him  squarely  between  the  eyes.  The  mate 
reeled  backward,  caught  himself,  staggered  a  few 
feet,  then  fell  in  a  motionless  heap  on  the  sand. 
The  surveyor  stood  for  an  instant  watching  him 
grimly.  After  a  little  he  turned  away  and  went 
on  board  the  boat. 

Later,  when  the  others  had  returned  to  the  Iris, 
the  quartermaster  came  to  McLean  and  told  him 
that  Johnson  had  declared  to  "get  even." 

"The  mate's  a  bad  enemy,  Sir,"  the  man  warned 
gravely.  "I  knowed  him  when  he  was  snapper 
nshin'  out  o*  Mobile  and  Pensacola.  I'd  advise 
you  to  look  sharp,  Sir;  he'll  be  up  to  tricks  'fore 
long." 

The  next  morning  when  the  survey  corps  board- 
ed the  cutter  to  be  set  ashore  at  their  respective 
stations,  the  second  officer,  Thomas,  captained  the 
boat;  for  Johnson  had  been  reported  in  sick  bay. 
After  the  men  had  been  placed  on  their  points 
McLean  went  on  to  triangulation  station 
"Hades,"  intending  to  complete  his  reference 


58  EVE,  JUNIOR 

sketch  there  and  pick  out  other  points  further  up 
the  creek.  On  his  arrival,  however,  he  discovered 
that  he  had  not  brought  his  fieldbook  containing 
the  triangulation  notes  of  the  upper  Chesapeake 
Bay  and  tributaries. 

This,  he  thought,  was  odd,  as  he  could  not  re- 
call having  removed  it  from  his  hip  pocket  the 
night  before.  He  assumed  that  he  must  have 
done  so,  however,  and  had  neglected  to  replace  it 
when  he  had  dressed  that  morning.  As  there 
was  space  enough  for  the  day's  work  in  another 
book  which  he  had,  he  decided  to  go  ahead  with 
his  program  instead  of  returning  to  the  Iris  at 
once  for  the  fieldbook. 

That  evening,  however,  a  search  of  his  quar- 
ters and  effects  failed  to  produce  the  missing  book, 
nor  could  he  remember  when  or  where  he  had  had 
it  since  he  put  it  in  his  hip  pocket  after  leaving 
station  "Hades"  to  go  to  the  island.  He  ques- 
tioned his  corps  and  the  crew  of  die  vessel,  but 
none  of  them  had  any  knowledge  of  it.  Finally 
he  concluded  that  he  must  have  left  it  at  the  shack, 
though  he  had  no  recollection  of  removing  it  from 
his  pocket  at  any  time.  Since  the  book  contained 
much  of  the  original  field  notes  of  the  triangula- 


THE  CONSEQUENCE  59 

tion  surveys  of  the  past  two  months,  its  loss  would 
mean  that  this  work  would  have  to  be  duplicated, 
a  feature  involving  the  expenditure  of  thousands 
of  dollars.  It  would  mean,  too,  the  inevitable  sev- 
erance of  his  connection  with  the  service,  with  a 
blot  of  carelessness  upon  his  record. 

Immediately  after  dinner  McLean  ordered  his 
small,  high-powered  hydroplane  lowered  oversides 
and  boarding  her  he  proceeded  at  once  to  the 
island.  As  he  approached  the  wharf  he  noticed  a 
tall,  spare,  weatherbeaten  man  in  the  rough  garb 
of  a  waterman  overhauling  his  nets  and  eel-pots 
and  placing  them  in  the  stern  of  a  stout-looking 
power  bateau  which  was  moored  at  the  inshore 
wing  of  the  wharf.  The  surveyor  rightly  assumed 
the  fisherman  to  be  "Skip"  Carroll. 

He  landed  and,  introducing  himself,  explained 
his  errand.  Carroll  listened  attentively,  mean- 
while taking  in  every  detail  of  the  measure  of  his 
visitor.  In  spite  of  his  weatherbeaten  features 
and  worn,  toil-stained  garments  there  was  some- 
thing distinctive  and  striking  about  the  man.  He 
produced  the  unexpected  and  conflicting  impres- 
sion of  virile,  yet  decadent,  aristocracy.  His  eyes 
were  the  eyes  of  his  daughter,  a  coincident  fea- 


60  EVE,  JUNIOR 

ture  that  marked  him  with  unmistakable  certainty 
the  parent  of  Eve. 

The  tall  fisherman  smiled  and  extended  his 
hand  in  greeting  when  McLean  had  finished  his 
explanation.  "I'm  right  glad  to  be  a-meetin'  you, 
Mister  McLean,"  he  said  in  hearty,  sincere  tones. 
"Eve,  she  was  a-tellin'  me  how  you'd  come  in  yis- 
tidday  outen  the  squall.  Said  she  kind  o'  reck- 
oned you  mought  come  ashore  this  evenin'  for  a 
spell.  I  don't  recollect  her  a-mentionin'  no  book, 
howsoever,  but  you  go  right  along  up  to  the  house, 
Sir,  an'  welcome.  I'm  a-goin'  out  on  this  tide  an' 
there  ain't  nobody  to  home  but  Eve  an'  old  Plum, 
but  you  'pear  like  a  gentleman,  Sir." 

"Thanks,"  McLean  answered  gravely.  "I  hope 
that  you  may  never  have  cause  to  change  your 
opinion." 

Eve  was  hanging  out  the  dish  towels  when  he 
reached  the  shack. 

"I  thought  you  said  you  were  a-comin'  over  this 
evenin',"  she  remarked  with  a  little  petulant 
frown  when  she  saw  him. 

"Well,  I'm  here,"  McLean  laughed,  a  bit  puz- 
zled. 

"Yeh,  but  this  ain't  evenin',"  she  complained, 


THE  CONSEQUENCE  61 

"this  is  night.  Supper's  all  done  and  dishes 
washed  and  put  away  and  it's  a-gettin'  dark  a'- 
ready." 

"I'm  sorry,  Eve.  I  didn't  think  you  expected 
me  to  supper,"  he  apologized. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  the  girl  smiled  up  at  him 
quickly;  "I  just  kind  o'  reckoned  you  meant  to 
come  earlier  and  when  you  didn't  I  felt  a  leetle 
bit  put  out  about  it,  that's  all.  Did  you  bring 
the  Book  o' — o'  Geraniums'?" 

"The  what1?"  exclaimed  McLean  with  a  frown 
of  perplexity. 

"Why,  that  there  Book  o' — oh,  you  know  the 
one  you  said  I  had  ought  to  know  about,  cre- 
mation, or  somethin'  another,  in  the  Bible,  I 
reckon,"  Eve  explained,  groping  for  the  unfa- 
miliar words. 

McLean  laughed. 

"You  mean  the  Book  of  Genesis.  No,  I  didn't 
bring  it,  Eve.  I  forgot  all  about  it,  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  for  I've  lost  my  fieldbook  and  I  haven't 
been  able  to  think  of  anything  since.  I  was  won- 
dering if  I  had  left  it  here  yesterday." 

"Nope,  I  reckon  not,  I  didn't  see  it.  What's 
it  look  like?" 


62  EVE,  JUNIOR 

McLean  described  its  appearance,  but  Eve  knew 
nothing  of  it.  The  only  thing  that  remained  for 
him  to  do  now  was  to  go  carefully  over  the  ground 
he  had  traversed  the  day  before  from  station 
"Hades."  He  realized  with  much  concern  that 
such  a  search  would  offer  but  the  faintest  pos- 
sibility of  success  on  account  of  the  dense  under- 
brush and  swampy  marsh  lands  through  which  the 
trail  had  taken  him.  He  left  the  island  a  little 
after  dark  to  return  to  the  Ins  with  the  intention 
of  making  a  thorough  inspection  of  the  vessel. 

Eve  went  down  to  the  wharf  with  him  and 
just  before  he  boarded  his  hydroplane  he  gave  her 
a  little  anchor-shaped  gold  pin  which  had  be- 
longed to  his  mother.  It  was  the  first  piece  of 
jewelry  the  girl  had  ever  possessed.  When  he 
had  gone  Eve  hurried  back  to  the  shack,  where 
she  went  at  once  to  her  room  and  made  a  light. 
For  a  long  time  she  sat  studying  the  little  trinket 
with  delighted  eyes.  Later,  she  got  a  sheet  of 
paper  and  a  pencil  and  began  to  make  a  sketch 
of  it. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    IMPOSTOR 

CABE  JOHNSON  was  standing  at  the  starboard  rail 
amidships  when  McLean  ordered  his  hydroplane 
lowered.  He  knew  that  McLean  would  soon  re- 
turn to  institute  a  search  of  the  ship  when  he 
failed  to  find  his  book  at  the  shack,  and  so  he 
waited  for  the  first  flash  of  the  hydroplane's  run- 
ning lights  which  would  indicate  the  surveyor's 
departure. 

As  McLean's  stay  lengthened  the  mate's  impa- 
tience increased.  Finally,  unable  to  content  him- 
self with  waiting,  he  descended  the  accommoda- 
tion ladder  to  the  yawl  moored  at  the  foot  of  it 
and  rowed  slowly  in  the  direction  of  Spit  Point. 

He  was  lying  quietly  by,  his  oars  shipped  and 
waiting,  when  the  hydroplane's  stern  light  flashed 
through  the  darkness.  Presently,  with  all  her  run- 
ning lights  gleaming  steadily,  the  little  craft  came 
tearing  across  the  dark,  smooth  water. 

A  moment  later  she  was  far  beyond  the  skulker. 
63 


64  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Then  Johnson  turned,  and,  rounding  the  point, 
rowed  rapidly  to  the  bulkhead  where  McLean 
had  whipped  him  the  day  before. 

Here  he  went  ashore  and  groped  about  in  the 
sand  for  some  time,  now  stooping  to  feel  with  his 
hands,  now  tamping  the  beach  with  his  feet. 
Finally,  he  came  upon  the  little  mound  of  sand 
he  sought,  and,  stuffing  the  object  which  he  found 
concealed  there  into  an  empty  coat  pocket,  he  re- 
turned to  the  yawl  and  directed  his  course  toward 
the  island. 

A  little  later  Johnson  moored  his  boat  at  Car- 
roll's wharf  and  went  on  up  the  road  to  the  shack. 
He  had  seen  Skip  go  out  in  his  bateau  and  knew 
that  there  was  no  one  on  the  island  but  Eve  Car- 
roll and  the  old  negro.  He  therefore  rapped 
boldly  on  the  front  door  of  the  shack  and  awaited 
results. 

Eve  answered  his  summons  unafraid  and  fully 
dressed. 

"I  came  to  see  your  father,"  said  Johnson 
gruffly.  "Is  he  about?" 

"No,  he's  nshin',"  Eve  replied  with  equal  brev- 
ity. "What  do  you  want  of  him?" 


THE  IMPOSTOR  65 

"It's  a  pretty  serious  matter,"  the  mate  told 
her  in  a  doleful  voice  and  drew  a  long  face. 

"Oh,  it  is.  Well,  s'pose'n  you  tell  me  about 
it,"  the  girl  suggested  fearlessly. 

"I'm  an  officer  from  the  United  States  Fisheries 
Bureau,"  Johnson  lied  smoothly,  as  he  pushed  his 
way  in  through  the  half-open  door.  "Your  father 
has  been  taking  undersized  fish  in  his  hauls,  and 
I've  come  to  arrest  him." 

"You  don't  say  so,"  Eve  challenged,  her  eyes 
flashing.  She  folded  her  arms  and  blocked  his 
further  progress  into  the  room  by  putting  her  foot 
against  the  door. 

Johnson  regarded  her  with  assumed  anger. 
"Yes,  I  do  say  so,  and  if  you  know  what's  good 
for  you,  kid,  you'll  let  me  in  without  any  trouble 
about  it.  Your  old  man  ain't  out  fishing,  he's 
inside  there  asleep." 

Eve  laughed  in  derision.  "You  know  dam' 
well  my  Dad  ain't  to  home.  I  reckon  that's  how 
'tis  you  make  so  bold  to  come  here  in  the  night 
like  this.  You'd  better  not  let  him  ketch  you 
'round  this  here  island  after  I  tell  him  what  you 
said  about  him  or,  man,  he'll  whale  time  outen 
you." 


66  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Johnson  laid  a  heavy  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 
She  promptly  shook  it  off  and  he  caught  her  by 
the  wrist. 

"Don't  you  know  that  you're  only  making  trou- 
ble for  yourself  by  talking  that  way"?  I'll  arrest 
you,  too,  as  an  accomplice,  if  you're  not  careful," 
he  growled  ominously. 

"And  if  you  don't  let  go  o'  my  wrist  I'll  give 
you  a  backhander  in  the  face  that'll  fetch  you  to 
your  senses,"  Eve  threatened,  her  cheeks  aflame 
with  anger.  "My  Dad's  out  nshin,'  like  I  told 
you,  and  he  ain't  a-takin'  no  culls,  neither,  and 
never  did;  and  if  you  ain't  a-wantin'  to  lay  up  for 
repairs  I  reckon  you'd  best  clear  out  and  never 
tell  him  he  did,  neither." 

"The  man  don't  live  that  I'm  afraid  of,"  the 
mate  boasted,  even  though  his  face  still  bore  evi- 
dences of  his  recent  encounter  with  McLean.  "I'll 
get  him  and  I've  got  the  goods  on  him,  too,  when 
I  do  get  him.  That  live-box  of  his  will  tell  the 
story,"  he  added,  still  holding  Eve's  wrist. 

With  a  quick,  angry  movement  the  girl 
wrenched  her  wrist  from  his  grasp  and  stamped 
her  foot  impetuously. 

"There  ain't  never  been  anything  in  that  there 


THE  IMPOSTOR  67 

live-box  to  hurt  Dad,  and  there  ain't  nothin'  there 
now.  Dad's  square,  he  is,  and  you're  crookeder'n 
a  grapevine,  and  if  you're  a-goin'  to  put  up  a  job 
on  him  I'll— I'll  kill  you,  that's  what  I'll  do." 

Johnson  laughed  contemptuously  but  her 
beauty  had  aroused  him.  He  made  a  futile  ef- 
fort to  embrace  her  and  got  a  resounding  slap 
in  the  face  for  his  presumption. 

"You're  a  regular  little  bear-cat,"  he  ejacu- 
lated, as  he  rubbed  the  sting  of  her  hand  out  of 
his  cheek.  Then  his  eyes  narrowed  craftily  and 
he  came  to  the  point  of  his  mission.  "I'll  tell  you 
what  I'll  do;  I'll  make  a  bargain  with  you,  kid: 
for  a  kiss — or  two,  I'll  let  your  father  off  this 
time,  and  we'll  call  it  square.  Come  on,  you 
may  as  well  be  friends  with  me!  It  will  keep 
your  dad  out  of  a  lot  of  trouble,  and  it  won't  do 
you  any  harm,  either,"  Johnson  suggested  with 
an  evil  smirk. 

"My  Dad  don't  have  to  be  kept  out  o*  no  trou- 
ble, 'cause  he  ain't  in  none,"  Eve  flashed  back. 
"And  I  wouldn't  be  friends  with  you  for — for 
anything,  'cause  you're  just  a  low-down,  lyin', 
good-for-nothin'  shrimp,  you  are,  and  I  reckon 
you'd  better  git  before  I  call  Plum." 


68  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"Call  him,  if  you  want  to  get  him  arrested. 
I've  got  a  warrant  for  him,  too,  and  it  will  save 
me  the  trouble  of  coming  back,"  said  the  mate 
with  plausible  candor. 

Eve  regarded  the  man  with  a  new  interest  bred 
of  increasing  fear. 

"You  surely  wouldn't  take  old  Plum  away  from 
this  here  island,  would  you4?"  she  asked,  her  lips 
a-tremble. 

"I'll  have  to  take  them  both  if  you  don't  do 
what  I'm  proposing." 

"Well,  Pd  just  like  to  see  the  likes  of  you 
a-takin'  Dad.  Why,  man,  he'd  bait  his  lines 
with  the  scraps  that  was  left  o'  you  when  he  got 
done  handlin'  you.  But  poor  old  Plum — you 
just  try  it  and  I'll  settle  with  you  in  about  two 
flips  of  a  flapjack." 

Johnson  watched  her  dilating,  angry  eyes  and 
the  ebb  and  flow  of  red  in  her  cheeks,  and  a  mad- 
ness seized  him.  Springing  suddenly  toward  her 
he  caught  her  by  the  elbows  and  pinned  her  arms 
at  her  sides  while  his  breath  whistled  between  his 
clenched  teeth.  He  bent  his  head  until  his  face 
was  in  her  hair  and  then  she  kicked  him  so  hard 
that  he  doubled  up  with  pain.  As  his  head  went 


THE  IMPOSTOR  69 

down  she  caught  his  ear  between  her  teeth  and 
held  on  until  he  yelled  and  let  go  of  her  arm  in 
order  to  protect  himself. 

The  instant  her  hands  were  free  she  slapped 
him  right  and  left  with  all  her  might  while  he 
covered  his  face  with  his  arms  and  retreated  back- 
ward toward  the  door.  His  course  was  some- 
what ill-directed,  however,  for  he  missed  the  open- 
ing by  a  wide  margin  and  presently  found  him- 
self crouching  in  a  chair  into  which  he  had  inad- 
vertently stumbled  with  his  back  to  the  wall. 

And  then  Eve  burst  into  tears,  and,  turning, 
fled  to  her  room  where  she  barricaded  the  door 
with  a  chair  and  flung  herself  upon  her  bed  in  a 
passion  of  unrestrained  weeping. 

The  mate  recovered  himself  with  a  sheepish, 
self-conciliatory  grin.  He  got  up  and  looked 
around  for  a  mirror.  But  the  Carroll  living-room 
did  not  boast  such  a  luxury.  His  roving  eyes  fell 
upon  a  framed  print  of  the  late  President  Mc- 
Kinley  with  the  name  of  a  well-known  tea-and- 
coffee  house  blazoned  in  advertisement  across  the 
bottom  of  the  frame.  He  studied  it  for  a  mo- 
ment with  a  peculiar,  growing  interest  as  if  the 
sight  of  it  had  brought  an  idea  into  being.  A 


yo  EVE,  JUNIOR 

slow,  malicious  smile  overspread  his  scratched, 
bleeding  face.  On  his  toes  he  crossed  the  room 
to  where  the  picture  hung  beside  the  cupboard. 

From  his  pocket  he  took  the  object  he  had 
found  in  the  sand  and  slid  it  in  back  of  the  pic- 
ture, wedging  it  between  the  wires  to  be  sure 
that  it  would  not  fall  out.  He  then  went  to  the 
door  of  Eve's  room  and  tried  the  knob,  but  the 
chair  held  fast  and  the  door  would  not  open. 

"I'm  going  now,  you  little  she-devil,"  he  called 
in  his  bullying,  half  angry  tone,  "and  if  I  hear 
anything  about  what  happened  to-night  I'll  come 
back  and  get  you  and  your  old  Plum  and  your 
father,  too.  I'll  bring  a  cage  along  to  put  you 
in,  you  little  bear-cat.  Now  don't  forget,  not  a 
word  about  to-night  or  the  law  will  take  you  in 
hand,  and  it  won't  be  good  for  you." 

And  with  this  parting  admonition  to  which  Eve 
did  not  reply,  Johnson  departed  to  the  wharf 
where  he  bathed  and  cooled  his  scratched  and  ach- 
ing face  in  the  brackish  water  of  the  creek.  When 
he  felt  that  his  appearance  would  pass  without 
exciting  suspicion  on  board  the  7m,  he  got  into 
the  yawl  and  rowed  slowly  toward  the  ship. 

Later,  as  he  was  taking  a  turn  about  the  deck 


THE  IMPOSTOR  71 

before  retiring,  he  noticed  McLean  sitting  at  his 
desk  in  his  cabin  writing  a  report  of  the  loss  of 
his  triangulation  book  to  Washington.  From  the 
darkness  and  security  of  the  deck  the  mate  saw 
the  address  on  the  official  envelope,  and  turned 
away  with  a  grim  smile  of  satisfaction. 

As  he  was  about  to  enter  his  room  a  few  min- 
utes later,  the  second  officer,  Thomas,  who  was  on 
watch,  caught  sight  of  his  disfigured  face. 

"Where'd  you  get  the  decorations'?  Looks  as 
though  you'd  had  an  unsuccessful  argument  with 
a  healthy  bobcat,"  the  younger  man  suggested 
pleasantly. 

"I  went  ashore  to  hunt  for  a  spring  and  got 
mixed  up  in  those  dam'  greenbriars,"  Johnson 
grumbled  as  he  entered  his  cabin.  Without  cere- 
mony he  closed  the  door  in  the  face  of  his  brother 
officer,  for  he  was  anxious  to  be  alone. 

Three  days  later  McLean  received  a  reply  from 
Washington  which  stated  that  unless  the  book 
was  recovered  in  ten  days  he  would  be  dismissed 
from  the  service. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    SHADOW    OF    A    DOUBT 

EVE'S  room  was  misty  with  the  first  faint  grayish 
light  of  dawn  when  she  awoke  to  find  herself 
lying,  still  fully  dressed,  across  her  bed.  Child- 
like, she  had  an  inordinate,  unreasoning  fear  of 
the  law  which  to  her  was,  in  any  form,  a  quick- 
sand of  unthinkable  possibilities.  The  very  word 
connoted  in  her  mind  visions  of  prison  bars  and 
dungeons  where  the  sunlight  never  came. 

The  big  bully  in  the  uniform  had  told  her  to 
say  nothing,  and  nothing  would  happen.  She 
knew  that  her  father  had  not  disobeyed  the  law, 
but  what  was  the  law  and  how  might  he  be  able 
to  prove  his  innocence*?  It  never  occurred  to  Eve 
that  the  proof  of  guilt  must  be  sustained  by  the 
law  itself.  To  her  the  law  was  a  great  unseen 
arm  of  intangible  irrevocability,  infallible,  final. 
If  the  hand  of  the  law  reached  out  and  grasped 
her  father  in  its  relentless  clutches  she  was  very 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A  DOUBT        73 

sure  he  would  have  to  fight  for  freedom.  Perhaps 
it  would  be  best  to  obey  the  stranger's  parting 
admonition  and  say  nothing  at  all  about  his  noc- 
turnal visit. 

During  the  week  that  followed  McLean  visited 
the  island  several  times.  The  loss  of  the  fieldbook, 
however,  was  a  serious  obstacle  to  his  complete 
enjoyment  of  the  hours  he  spent  off  duty,  and  he 
was,  for  the  most  part,  a  dull  guest.  Eve,  tod, 
with  the  memory  of  his  kiss  still  burning  on  her 
lips,  was  inclined  to  be  somewhat  distant  and  re- 
served when  the  surveyor  was  present.  She  never 
quite  forgot  herself  in  that  sweet  unconsciousness 
which  McLean  had  found  so  childishly  charming 
at  first.  Nor  was  she  self-conscious,  but  he  had 
many  occasions  to  regret  his  impulsiveness  that 
first  day  on  the  wharf,  for  he  often  felt  the  in- 
visible barrier  of  convention  which  the  incident 
had  raised  between  them.  And  when,  in  despair 
of  surmounting  the  obstacle,  he  attempted  to  re- 
peat the  episode  of  the  kiss  he  was  met  by  a  quiet, 
smiling,  yet  firm  rebuff  which,  though  plainly  par- 
doning the  present  offense,  as  plainly  warned 
against  a  future  repetition.  McLean  came  away 
feeling  what  he  hated  to  admit:  that  the  sweet, 


74  EVE,  JUNIOR 

lovable  child  he  had  unwittingly  kissed  but  a  few 
days  before  had  suddenly  developed  into  woman- 
hood, sweeter,  more  lovable,  more  beautiful  than 
ever. 

Meanwhile,  after  making  every  effort  to  locate 
his  missing  book,  he  was  finally  forced  to  the 
unwelcome  conclusion  that  it  had  somehow  fallen 
overboard  and  sunk,  though  doubtless  it  would 
have  floated  for  a  time  until  it  became  thoroughly 
saturated  with  water. 

And  thus  it  was  that  on  the  evening  of  the  ninth 
day  after  McLean  had  received  the  ultimatum 
from  Washington  he  went  to  the  island  to  say 
good-by.  Skip  was  out  with  his  nets  somewhere 
on  the  bay  and  Plum,  Eve  said,  was  "snoozin'  " 
in  his  quarters,  as  usual. 

The  night  was  warm  and  still,  with  the  pros- 
pect of  a  storm  out  of  the  northwest  where  the 
heat  lightning  played  in  softly  vivid  flashes  along 
the  crests  of  thunderheads  assembled  there.  Eve 
suggested  a  stroll  around  the  island  beach,  to 
which  McLean  consented.  He  was  not  in  the 
mood  for  talking,  and  the  walk  would  occupy 
enough  of  their  attention  to  make  his  lack  of 
words  less  obvious.  He  had  learned,  too,  that 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A  DOUBT        75 

Eve  had  a  quaint  little  way  of  philosophizing  as 
they  idled  along  together,  and  her  words  and  quiet 
manner  always  soothed  him  like  a  lullaby.  As 
yet  he  had  not  told  her  that  the  loss  of  the  book 
would  result  in  his  dismissal  from  the  service, 
and  she  had  no  idea  that  this  visit  meant  good-by. 

"Oh,  about  the  book,"  Eve  said  at  length.  "I'm 
awful  sorry.  But  maybe  it  ain't  too  late  yet. 
Brookie  used  to  say  that  in  stories  things  always 
turned  out  right  just  at  the  last  minute  when  you 
was  a-commencin'  to  reckon  they  never,  never 
would.  Maybe  it'll  be  that-a-way  with  your 
book." 

McLean  laughed  at  her  quaint,  childish  sim- 
plicity. 

"I'm  afraid  not,  Eve,"  he  replied,  drawing  a 
long  breath.  "Besides,  I'm  going  away  to-mor- 
row." 

The  girl  stopped  quite  still  and  looked  out  over 
the  water  to  where  the  Iris  lay  at  anchor  in  a  shim- 
mer of  reflected  light. 

"Away,"  she  repeated  vaguely,  "to-morrow?" 

"To-morrow  morning,"  said  McLean. 

"Where?5 

"I  don't  know  yet.     I've  hardly  thought  about 


76  EVE,  JUNIOR 

it.  I  had  not  given  up  hope  of  finding  the  book 
until  to-night." 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Eve  with  sincere  simplicity. 

McLean  turned  quickly  toward  her,  while  the 
thrill  of  an  impulse  to  take  her  in  his  arms  was 
checked  by  her  own  intuition,  for  she  looked  away 
and  began  to  walk  slowly  on.  The  surveyor  fol- 
lowed with  his  pulses  pounding. 

Completing  their  circuit  of  the  island  they  came 
presently  to  the  wharf,  and,  turning,  went  up  the 
road  toward  the  shack,  for  Eve  had  told  McLean 
that  she  had  made  a  sketch  of  the  Iris  and  she 
wanted  him  to  see  it  and  pass  upon  it.  As  they 
entered  she  made  a  light  in  the  living  room,  then 
went  on  to  her  own  room  where  she  lit  her  lamp 
and  called  him. 

The  new  sketch  occupied  what  appeared  to  be 
the  last  available  space  on  the  wall.  Like  all  the 
others  about  it,  it  was  held  in  place  by  four  tacks 
and  framed  by  four  other  sketches  which,  though 
excellent  in  themselves,  accentuated  the  marked 
improvement  in  the  later  drawing. 

"You're  wasting  your  time  here  in  Bodkin, 
Eve,"  McLean  told  her  with  a  sincere  directness 
that  sounded  harsh.  "The  world  has  better  use 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A  DOUBT       77 

for  you.  You  ought  to  take  advantage  of  this 
glorious  talent  now." 

"Dad's  here  and  old  Plum,"  she  replied  gravely. 
"I  reckon  I'll  stay  by  'em  like  I  had  ought  to.  I've 
always  been  here,  and  I've  been  right  happy, 
mostly.  I  don't  know  how  it'd  be  out  yonder, 
there,"  she  concluded  wistfully,  pointing  town- 
ward. 

McLean  smiled  in  sympathetic  understanding. 

"Perhaps  you're  right,  Eve — this  is  your  home. 
It's  the  most  wonderful  place  in  the  world  when 
you  feel  that  way  about  it." 

"Where  is  your  home*?"  she  inquired,  looking 
up  with  sudden,  thoughtful  interest. 

"I  haven't  any.  My  parents  have  been  dead  for 
a  number  of  years." 

"Got  any  sisters,  or  brothers  or  anything?" 

"No,  only  a  few  distant  cousins." 

"Oh,  that's  too  bad.  No  wonder  you  said  you 
didn't  know  where  you'd  go  to-morrow,"  Eve  re- 
marked soberly;  and  McLean  laughed,  then  so- 
bered, too,  with  the  thought  that  the  Iris  had  been 
his  home  for  nearly  five  years.  To-morrow's  part- 
ing would  not  be  so  easy,  after  all,  he  realized 
with  a  pang  of  regret. 


78  EVE,  JUNIOR 

It  was  getting  late  now  and  he  turned  to  go. 
As  he  left  Eve's  room  a  sudden  draught  of  air 
closed  the  front  door  with  a  bang  that  sent  a  tre- 
mor through  the  shack.  The  picture  of  President 
McKinley  rattled  against  the  wall  and  a  dark  ob- 
ject slipped  from  in  back  of  it  and  fell  to  the  floor 
with  a  little  thud  that  made  the  surveyor  turn 
to  see  what  had  caused  the  sound.  With  a  start 
of  amazement  he  stooped  quickly  and  picked  up 
his  triangulation  book. 

Eve  stared  curiously  at  the  unfamiliar  object. 

"What  is  it4?"  she  asked  simply. 

"Yes,  what  is  it,"  McLean  repeated  in  sudden 
anger.  "You  know  well  enough  what  it  is.  That 
was  a  devilish  trick  to  play  when  you  were  aware 
of  the  fact  that  the  loss  of  this  book  was  causing 
so  much  trouble.'* 

Eve's  glance  left  the  book  to  seek  his  accusing 
eyes.  She  felt  an  odd  mixture  of  curiosity,  fear 
and  resentment.  Her  face  reddened  with  a  flush 
and  her  eyes  grew  bright  with  little  angry  lights. 
She  started  to  speak,  lost  the  thread  of  what  she 
meant  to  say  and  stared  at  the  book  again. 

McLean  studied  her  for  an  intent,  angry  mo- 
ment, then  put  the  book  in  his  pocket,  and  with- 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A  DOUBT        79 

out  a  word  left  the  shack.  Eve  watched  him  as 
he  closed  the  door  and  hurried  down  the  road. 
The  hot  blood  burned  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes  were 
full  of  tears. 

McLean  returned  to  the  Iris  feeling  that  he 
owed  Johnson  some  measure  of  apology  for  the 
unfortunate  affair  which  had  ended  in  their  fight. 
First,  however,  he  meant  to  have  a  wireless  sent 
to  the  Naval  Academy  to  be  relayed  to  the  depart- 
ment at  Washington  reporting  the  recovery  of  the 
fieldbook. 

The  first  officer  was  standing  at  the  rail  near 
the  accommodation  ladder  when  the  surveyor  came 
on  board.  McLean  did  not  observe  him,  however, 
and  went  at  once  to  the  wireless  room  where  he 
gave  his  instructions  to  the  operator.  Johnson 
walked  quietly  over  and  stood  just  outside  the 
open  door  and  overheard  the  message.  As  Mc- 
Lean came  out  again,  the  mate  stepped  quickly 
into  the  shadow  around  the  corner  of  the  house. 
It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  watch  approached. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Johnson?"  asked  McLean. 

"He  was  on  the  port  deck  near  the  gangway  a 
few  minutes  ago,  Sir,"  the  watch  replied,  pass- 
ing on. 


8o  EVE,  JUNIOR 

The  face  of  the  man  in  the  shadow  went  white. 
A  tremor  of  fear  shook  him  as  with  palsy.  He 
watched  McLean  go  on  up  the  deck  and  enter  his 
room,  then  he  made  a  stealthy  dash  for  the  accom- 
modation ladder.  Running  hurriedly  down  the 
steps,  he  entered  the  yawl  and  rowed  silently  away 
in  the  darkness. 

Hours  later  came  the  wind  and  the  rain  and  the 
lightning;  and  the  storm  broke  in  all  its  mid- 
summer fury.  And  weird  sounds  arose  from  the 
swamp  and  filled  the  shack  with  their  mocking 
terror.  Old  Plum,  deaf  though  he  was  to  nearly 
every  other  sound  save  this,  was  awakened,  and, 
fearing  that  his  "li'l  Missy"  would  be  frightened, 
left  his  quarters  and  went  to  comfort  her. 

But  at  the  open  door  of  her  room  he  stood 
aghast ;  his  old  knees  began  to  tremble  and  his  old 
eyes  stared  in  startled  unbelief.  For  the  first  vivid 
lightning  flash  had  shown  him  her  untouched  bed 
all  smooth  and  white  and  empty. 

In  sudden  panic  the  ancient  negro  fell  to  sob- 
bing like  a  child  that  has  lost  its  way,  and  he  wan- 
dered from  end  to  end  of  the  deserted  shack,  cry- 
ing her  name  aloud  and  begging  her  in  piteous 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A  DOUBT        81 

tones  to  come  to  him.  And  when  this  proved  of 
no  avail  he  plunged  wildly  out  of  doors,  and  ran 
stumbling  along  the  island  beach,  bare-headed 
and  bedraggled,  heedless  of  the  wind  and  rain 
that  sought  to  beat  him  down,  pitting  his  feeble 
old  voice  against  the  mighty  voice  of  the  storm, 
calling  for  his  "li'l  Missy"  to  come  back. 

But  the  dog,  Tip,  alone  heard  his  call  and  an- 
swered it.  He  tugged  and  strained  at  the  end  of 
his  chain  until  a  weak  link  somewhere  in  its  length 
gave  way  and  freed  him.  With  the  unerring  in- 
stinct of  his  breed  he  responded  to  the  necessities 
of  the  moment  and  covered  the  island  many  times 
as  Plum  encircled  it. 

At  last,  however,  both  man  and  dog  were  forced 
to  admit  the  uselessness  of  their  quest.  Weary 
and  discouraged,  fearful  past  fearing  for  the 
safety  of  his  ward,  wet  to  the  skin  and  bruised 
and  battered  by  many  falls  as  he  stumbled  about 
in  the  inky  blackness  that  closed  in  upon  each 
blinding  flash,  Plum  finally  made  his  way  back 
to  the  shack  and  dropped  into  the  old  Chippen- 
dale chair,  prostrated  with  grief  and  fatigue.  And 
Tip  followed  him  and  sat  at  his  feet  and  licked 
his  old,  shriveled  black  hands  in  humble  commis- 


82  EVE,  JUNIOR 

eration  while  the  end  of  the  broken  chain  clanked 
ominously  against  the  chair  legs — a  fitting  accom- 
paniment to  the  wail  of  the  wind,  the  shriek  of 
the  swamp,  the  bursting  peal  and  roll  of  the 
thunder. 


CHAPTER  VII 

"SKIP"  CARROLL'S  SUSPICIONS 

IT  was  seven  bells  of  the  first  watch  when  John- 
son came  aboard  the  Iris  in  the  gloam  of  the 
early  summer  morning.  The  storm  had  abated 
and  the  eastern  sky  was  pink  with  promise  of  the 
coming  day. 

"In  case  any  one  mentions  it,"  he  told  the  watch 
with  a  confidential  wink,  "just  forget  that  you 
saw  me  this  morning,  and  I'll  make  it  worth  your 
while." 

A  little  later  on,  in  from  the  storm-tossed  bay 
came  Skip  Carroll,  singing  right  merrily  as  his 
bateau  chugged  along,  the  kick  of  her  noisy,  one- 
lunged  motor  aided  by  a  leg-o' -mutton  foresail 
bellied  and  taut  with  the  wind  abeam. 

"Eight  bells  an'  all's  well, 
Wind  nor' west  a-blowin'  like  hell," 
83 


84  EVE,  JUNIOR 

sang  Skip,  as  he  passed  to  windward  of  the  Iris; 
and  Johnson,  just  about  to  slip  into  his  bunk  for 
a  catnap  before  reveille,  paused  at  his  cabin  port 
to  peer  through  the  half-light  of  the  new  day  at 
the  big,  light-hearted  fisherman.  A  slow,  evil 
smile  overspread  his  face.  He  was  glad  that  the 
storm  had  detained  Carroll. 

The  storm  had,  indeed,  delayed  Skip.  Most 
of  his  nets  were  staked  out  along  the  exposed  south 
shore  of  the  bay  below  the  gooseneck  that  forms 
Bodkin  Point,  and  when  the  squall  broke  he  had 
made  a  hasty  run  for  the  shelter  of  this  low-lying 
sand  spit.  Here  he  lay  under  the  windward  of 
the  point  during  the  two  hours  the  storm  had 
raged.  Long  after  the  wind  and  rain  had  abated, 
however,  the  heavy  sea  thus  set  in  motion  pre- 
vented him  from  leaving  his  anchorage ;  so  that  it 
was  well  toward  three  o'clock  before  he  dared  to 
venture  forth  to  fish  his  pounds  and  eel-pots.  And 
now,  at  last,  with  his  live-boxes  towing  astern  he 
was  homeward  bound. 

Dawn  was  breaking  and  the  tree  tops  awoke 
with  the  melody  of  feathered  choristers  as  Car- 
roll went  on  up  the  road  toward  the  shack.  As 
he  opened  die  door  of  the  shack  he  paused  for  an 


"SKIP"  CARROLL'S  SUSPICIONS     85 

instant  on  the  threshold  half  amazed,  half  amused, 
for  there  in  the  big  armchair  before  the  table  sat 
Plum,  and  at  his  feet  curled  Tip.  The  old  negro 
was  deep  in  sleep,  his  head  hanging  forward  on 
his  chest,  his  breathing  stertorous  and  fitful. 

"Well,  Plum,  you  old  black  scoundrel,  what 
are  you  a-doin'  over  here  this  time  o'  day?"  roared 
Carroll  in  his  big,  good-natured  voice,  dropping 
his  empty  dinner  pail  on  the  table  at  the  same 
instant  with  a  great  clatter  of  tin. 

The  old  negro  catapulted  out  of  his  chair  as 
though  a  hidden  spring  had  suddenly  uncoiled  in 
its  seat,  his  old  eyes  blinking  the  sleep-webs  out 
of  them,  his  mouth  agape. 

"Skeer  you,  old  fellow?"  Skip  commiserated 
kindly,  mistaking  the  negro's  reaction  for  fright. 

"No,  Marse  Skip,"  Plum  replied  in  a  roice  that 
seemed  to  come  wandering  down  the  ages  from 
the  sepulcher  of  Ham,  "he  didn't  skeer  ole  Plum 
none.  He's  jus'  woke  up  t'  somethin'  all  over 
agin.  It's  li'l  Missy,  Marse  Skip,  li'l  Missy's  gone, 
clean  gone,  jus'  like  Mis'  Brookie  go  dat  night 
more'n  five  year  ago,  come  las'  Spring." 

"Gone !"  echoed  the  big  fisherman,  his  tall,  erect 


86  EVE,  JUNIOR 

form  grown  rigid  with  the  shock  of  the  old  serv- 
ant's words.     "Gone  where?    When1?" 

"In  de  night,  some  time,  Marse  Skip.  De 
squall,  hit  come,  an'  dat  tumble  voice  from  de 
swamp,  hit  come,  too,  an'  ole  Plum,  he  was  a- 
feared  li'l  Missy  mought  be  scairt  an'  he  come  to 
be  near  her  but  she  was  gone,  Marse  Skip,  gone, 
jus'  lak  de  wind  come  an'  taken  her  up  an'  toted 
her  away,"  Plum  wailed,  as  he  pointed  through 
the  open  doorway  of  Eve's  room  to  the  smooth, 
empty  bed,  mute  corroboration  of  his  testimony. 

Carroll  went  into  the  deserted  room  with  the 
slow  reverent  step  of  one  who  enters  a  sacred 
place,  his  dazed  mind  groping  feebly  for  some 
tangible  reason  for  his  daughter's  absence.  In  the 
middle  of  the  floor  he  stopped  to  survey  the  room 
with  eyes  that  neither  saw  nor  understood,  for 
they  were  filled  with  a  vain,  abstract  questioning, 
searching  rather  for  a  motive  than  a  clue.  At 
last,  with  a  feeling  of  intense  mental  and  physi- 
cal fatigue,  he  sank  down  upon  the  side  of  her 
bed  with  his  head  in  his  hands.  Plum  stood 
silent  and  dejected  in  the  doorway  while  Tip  wan- 
dered back  and  forth  from  one  man  to  the  other, 
whining  his  condolence  and  grief  with  a  pathetic 


"SKIP"  CARROLL'S  SUSPICIONS     87 

show  of  canine  understanding.  It  was  thus  that 
the  morning  sun,  creeping  over  the  distant  horizon, 
stole  softly  in  through  Eve's  half-curtained  win- 
dow and  found  them ;  and  with  its  coming  the  big 
fisherman  awoke  to  action. 

"Plum,"  he  said,  getting  to  his  feet  with  a  celer- 
ity that  indicated  decision,  "I've  thought  and 
thought  and  tried  to  figure  this  here  thing  out  some 
ways,  and  I  ain't  got  no  further  than  the  start,  so 
I'm  a-goin'  to  run  out  to  that  there  gover'ment  ship 
what  Mister  McLean's  on.  It  don't  'pear  nowise 
likely  that  he'd  be  a-knowin'  anything  about  this 
here  matter,  but  then  agin  he  mought.  I  hate  to 
think,  an'  I  reckon  I'm  a-doin'  him  wrong,  but  he 
just  mought."  And  he  strode  out  of  the  shack  and 
down  to  his  bateau  with  the  hurried,  feverish 
stride  of  a  man  who  has  an  unwelcome  suspicion 
to  allay. 

McLean  had  just  finished  dressing  when  the 
watch  announced  that  Carroll  was  on  deck  wait- 
ing to  see  him,  and  he  went  up  at  once  to  learn 
what  had  brought  the  fisherman  to  him  on  this 
early  morning  errand.  The  news  that  Skip  bore 
was  no  less  a  shock  to  the  surveyor  than  it  had  been 
to  the  father  himself,  and  Carroll,  watching  for 


88  EVE,  JUNIOR 

any  corroborative  indication  of  the  truth  of  his 
unwelcome  suspicion,  was  quickly  aware  of  Mc- 
Lean's total  ignorance  and  innocence  of  the  affair. 
The  surveyor  gave  him  a  direct  and  detailed  ac- 
count of  his  visit  to  the  island  and  of  the  regret- 
table incident  in  which  it  had  so  abruptly  termi- 
nated, a  matter  of  which,  Carroll,  of  course,  had 
no  previous  knowledge.  He  expressed  himself 
as  being  totally  unable  to  understand  the  pres- 
ence of  the  book  where  McLean  had  so  unex- 
pectedly found  it,  and  assured  him  that  Eve  had 
undoubtedly  been  as  ignorant  of  its  hiding  place 
as  either  of  them. 

"It  was  not  more  than  nine  o'clock  when  I  left 
the  island  last  night,"  said  McLean  thoughtfully. 
"Have  you  any  idea  about  the  time  she  must  have 
gone  or  how  she  went — by  boat  or  by  fording  the 
neck?" 

"That  there's  the  part  I  can't  figger  out  a-tall," 
Carroll  replied,  knitting  his  heavy  brows.  "The 
boats  is  all  there  an'  the  tide  was  flood  an'  full 
about  the  time  she'd  ought  to  gone,  accordin'  to 
Plum.  He  come  over  when  the  squall  broke,  an' 
she'd  gone  a'ready  then.  She  must  o'  gone  in  a 
boat  'cause  she  couldn't  o'  forded  the  neck  with 


"SKIP"  CARROLL'S  SUSPICIONS     89 

such  a  tide  on.  But  what-the-hell  boat  was  it, 
man?  There  ain't  ary  boat  this  side  the  p'int  'cept 
this  here  one." 

Looking  up  the  deck  at  this  moment  the  sur- 
veyor saw  the  first  mate  emerging  from  the  for- 
ward companionway,  and  a  thought  occurred  to 
him. 

"Mr.  Johnson,"  he  called;  and  as  the  mate  ap- 
proached, he  asked:  "You  do  not  recall  passing 
another  boat  when  you  were  out  on  the  creek  last 
night,  do  you?' 

Johnson  stared  at  him  an  instant  while  the  red 
of  his  face  seemed  to  pale  ever  so  little. 

"I  wasn't  out  on  the  creek  last  night,  Sir,"  he 
replied  in  even  tones. 

It  was  McLean's  turn  to  stare  now.  He  re- 
garded the  mate  with  a  curious,  half -quizzical 
smile. 

"In  that  case  I  suppose  the  watch  was  mistaken. 
I  wanted  to  see  you  a  moment  about  nine- thirty 
and  Karlson  said  you  had  gone  away  in  the  yawl 
boat.  It  must  have  been  some  one  else." 

"S'pose  you  get  a-hold  o'  this  here  Karlson 
and  see  what  he  has  to  say,"  the  fisherman  sug- 
gested bluntly. 


90  EVE,  JUNIOR 

McLean,  surprised  and  somewhat  embarrassed, 
assented,  but  the  mate  raised  a  hasty  objection. 

"Karlson's  asleep.  He  goes  on  watch  again  at 
eight  bells.  No  use  to  bother  him  now,"  he  inter- 
posed shortly. 

Carroll's  eyes  were  ablaze  in  an  instant,  his 
anger  aroused  by  the  man's  apparent  indifference. 
He  turned  to  McLean  and  demanded  that  the 
watch  be  questioned  at  once;  to  which  Johnson 
offered  a  further  objection.  He  said  that  as  Cap- 
tain Cullom  was  away  on  leave  he  was  in  charge 
of  the  vessel  and  its  crew,  and  that  if  any  ques- 
tioning was  to  be  done  he,  himself,  would  do  it. 
He  added,  however,  that  he  had  been  on  board  all 
evening,  and  that  neither  the  yawl  boat  nor  any 
other  of  the  ship's  boats  had  been  out  the  night 
before.  And  when  he  had  done,  Carroll,  enraged 
the  more  by  the  man's  contemptuous,  domineer- 
ing manner,  stepped  up  to  him  with  a  menacing 
look  in  his  eyes.  His  big  fists  clenched  and  un- 
clenched convulsively. 

"I  got  a  notion  you're  a-lyin',  Mister  Skipper," 
he  drawled  with  a  slow,  incisive  directness  of 
speech. 

The  mate  recoiled  visibly  then  recovered  him- 


"SKIP"  CARROLL'S  SUSPICIONS    91 

self  and  made  as  if  to  attack  his  accuser,  while 
McLean,  surprised  at  the  open,  almost  unaccount- 
able spirit  of  antagonism  which  the  men  displayed 
toward  one  another,  stepped  in  between  them. 

"Gentlemen,  there  is  no  necessity  for  such  feel- 
ing on  the  part  of  either  of  you.  This  matter  can 
be  straightened  out  without  going  to  needless  ex- 
tremes. Mr.  Johnson,  as  chief  of  this  party  I  in- 
struct you  to  have  Karlson  brought  here  at  once." 

The  first  officer  put  his  heels  together  and  sa- 
luted. 

"I'll  bring  him  myself,  Sir,"  he  replied,  and 
turned  sharply  away  to  execute  the  order. 

The  moment  Johnson  had  gone  the  fisherman 
nudged  McLean  roughly. 

"You'd  ought  to  go  'long  with  him,"  he  advised 
shrewdly.  "Why,  man,  he  can  tell  that  there 
feller  to  say  anything  he  wants  him  to.  He  ain't 
on  the  square,  that  skipper  ain't." 

McLean,  now  more  surprised  than  ever  at  Car- 
roll's suspicious  attitude,  refused  to  follow  the 
fisherman's  suggestion,  declaring  it  an  unnecessary 
and  unwarranted  precaution  which  he  felt  him- 
self in  honor  bound  to  disregard.  A  few  minutes 
later,  Johnson  and  the  watch  came  up  out  of  the 


92  EVE,  JUNIOR 

forecastle  companionway.  The  mate's  face  was 
red  and  dour  looking,  and  he  talked  in  an  earnest 
undertone  to  the  sleepy,  blinking  sailor  who 
seemed  to  be  nodding  acquiescence  to  all  that 
was  told  him.  Carroll  ground  his  teeth  and 
snarled  his  angry  disapproval. 

"Look  at  that,  he's  a-fixin'  him  now,  dam' 
him !"  he  growled,  and  McLean  made  no  reply. 

As  the  two  men  came  down  the  deck  Johnson 
fell  silent,  for  he  seemed  to  understand  that  his 
actions  were  being  appraised. 

"Karlson,"  spoke  up  McLean  when  they  had 
come  abreast  of  him,  "didn't  you  tell  me  last  night 
that  Mr.  Johnson  had  gone  out  in  the  yawl  boat*?" 

The  Norwegian's  eyes  made  a  hasty  shift  from 
McLean's  face  to  the  deck  at  his  feet.  "Yes,  Sir," 
he  replied  hesitantly. 

"Well,"  urged  McLean. 

"I  was  mistaken,  Sir.  The  yawl  boat  did  not 
leave  its  moorings  during  my  watch,  Sir." 

"Where  was  it  moored?" 

"At  the  port  boom,  near  the  foot  of  the  board- 
ing ladder,  Sir." 

"Well,  you're  mistaken  about  that,  too,"  Mc: 
Lean  replied  sharply.  "Around  ten  o'clock  the 


"SKIP"  CARROLL'S  SUSPICIONS     93 

yawl  was  either  in  its  davits  or  away  from  the 
ship." 

"It  may  have  been  in  its  davits,  Sir,"  the  sailor 
agreed,  his  eyes  still  on  the  deck. 

"Now,  then,  where  was  Mr.  Johnson  when  you 
told  me  he  was  out  in  the  yawl?" 

"I  think  he  must  have  been  in  his  room,  Sir." 

"I  was,"  Johnson  quickly  corroborated. 

McLean  laughed  shortly.  "And  now  you  are 
both  mistaken.  I  went  to  your  room  three  times 
between  nine-thirty  and  ten-fifteen,  Mr.  Johnson, 
and  you  were  not  there." 

"Look  here,"  demanded  Johnson,  with  a  show 
of  heat,  "what's  all  this  quiz  about,  anyway?  My 
job  is  to  handle  this  boat,  not  to  answer  a  bunch 
of  questions  like  a  witness  in  a  courtroom." 

"Mr.  Carroll  and  I  simply  want  to  know 
whether  or  not  a  boat  from  this  vessel  was  on 
the  creek  last  night,  and  if  so  whether  our  boat 
met  or  saw  any  other  boat,"  McLean  explained 
patiently. 

"S'pose'n  you-all  tell  us  where  you  was  if  you 
wasn't  in  your  room  an'  you  wasn't  out  on  the 
crick,"  Carroll  demanded  bruskly. 

"Hell !"  snarled  the  mate  with  open  contempt 


94  EVE,  JUNIOR 

for  his  inquisitor.  "Don't  you  know  that  there 
are  plenty  of  places  on  this  ship  besides  my  room  ? 
What  do  you  think  this  is,  that  dam'  crab-smashin' 
skiff  of  yours?' 

"Well,  you  said  you  was  in  your  room,  didn't 
you*?"  retorted  the  fisherman,  with  shrewd  empha- 
sis on  the  pronouns. 

"It's  none  o'  your  dam'  business  where  I  was," 
cried  Johnson  hotly,  and,  as  if  he  feared  to  sub- 
ject himself  to  further  questioning,  turned  and 
hastened  below. 

When  Carroll  would  have  followed  him,  Mc- 
Lean quietly  prevented  and  urged  him  to  refrain 
from  any  unwarranted  outburst.  Meanwhile 
Karlson,  the  watch,  stood  by,  impatiently  waiting 
for  McLean  to  dismiss  him. 

"In  the  future,  Karlson,  be  sure  you  are  right 
before  you  make  a  statement  that  you  may  have 
to  substantiate  later  on." 

Feeling  certain  that  the  man  had  made  his  first 
report  of  the  whereabouts  of  his  superior  correctly 
he  had  added  this  final  taunt  in  the  hope  that  it 
would  lead  Karlson  to  justify  himself  in  the  truth 
of  the  matter.  But  the  man  only  hesitated  an  in- 
stant as  if  he  meant  to  speak,  then  turned  away 


"SKIP"  CARROLL'S  SUSPICIONS    95 

with  a  mumbled  "Yes,  Sir,"  and  disappeared 
down  the  forecastle  companionway. 

"Come  have  breakfast  with  me,"  suggested  Mc- 
Lean, "and  then  we'll  take  the  cutter  and  make  a 
thorough  search  of  the  creek.  If  Eve  left  the 
island  in  a  boat,  as  you  seem  to  think,  that  boat 
may  still  be  somewhere  in  Bodkin." 

Immediately  after  breakfast,  which  had  been 
but  a  formality,  for  neither  of  them  had  a  heart 
to  eat,  McLean  ordered  the  steam  cutter  made 
ready  for  the  trip.  A  little  later,  when  they  had 
embarked,  and  the  cutter  was  backing  away  from 
the  7m,  the  piston-connecting  rod  broke  with  a 
snap,  and  the  surveyor,  anxious  to  begin  the  search, 
called  the  launch  into  service. 

As  the  smaller  craft  was  brought  alongside  the 
disabled  cutter,  McLean  was  the  first  to  board  her. 
On  the  grated  floor  at  his  feet  his  casual  glance 
included  a  small,  familiar  object  which  he  stooped 
and  picked  up  with  a  sudden  quickening  of  pulse. 
It  was  the  little  anchor-shaped  pin  which  he  had 
given  Eve  but  the  week  before. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  have  a  general  call  to 
quarters  made  and  follow  this  with  a  rigid  inquiry 
into  the  whereabouts  of  every  member  of  the  crew 


96  EVE,  JUNIOR 

and  survey  party  during  the  previous  evening.  On 
second  thought,  however,  he  resolved  to  await  the 
result  of  the  inspection  of  the  creek.  He  put  the 
pin  in  his  pocket  and  sat  down  near  the  wheel 
without  a  word. 

The  quartermaster  from  the  cutter  came  aboard 
and  began  to  unscrew  the  cap  of  the  gasoline 
tank  under  the  forward  deck. 

"You  needn't  bother  about  that,"  McLean  told 
him,  impatient  to  be  off.  "She  was  filled  up  yes- 
terday and  the  boat  hasn't  been  out  since." 

The  man  had  the  cap  off  now,  however,  and 
ran  his  gage  down  into  the  tank  "just  for  luck/' 
as  he  put  it  in  apology  for  his  action. 

"Why,  there  ain't  more'n  a  couple  o'  gallons  in 
it,  Sir,"  he  exclaimed,  examining  the  gage  as  he 
withdrew  it. 

"That's  dam'  funny,"  was  the  fisherman's  sus- 
picious ejaculation,  as  he  transferred  his  big  frame 
from  the  cutter  to  a  seat  alongside  of  McLean. 
The  latter  got  up  abruptly,  and,  stepping  off  on 
the  accommodation  ladder,  hurried  to  the  deck 
of  the  7m,  where  he  sought  out  Johnson  and  con- 
fronted him  with  the  pin. 


"SKIP"  CARROLL'S  SUSPICIONS    97 

"Did  you  ever  see  that  before,  Mr.  Johnson*?" 
he  demanded. 

"No,"  the  mate  replied  quite  truthfully. 

"Well,  it  belonged  to  Eve  Carroll,"  McLean 
continued,  "and  I  just  now  found  it  in  our  launch. 
Miss  Carroll  had  this  pin  on  last  night,  for  I 
saw  it  myself,  and  now  she  is  missing  from  home. 
Johnson,  it  looks  as  though  somebody  on  this  ves- 
sel knows  more  than  they're  telling." 

"Meaning  me*?"  the  mate  cut  in  abruptly,  his 
face  red  and  white  by  turns.  "You  were  out  on 
the  creek  last  night — I  wasn't." 

"One  thing  more,"  McLean  continued,  disre- 
garding the  imputation,  "when  was  the  tank  of 
that  launch  filled  last?" 

The  mate  hesitated  and  looked  away.  "I  don't 
remember,"  he  said. 

"It  was  filled  yesterday  at  noon,  wasn't  it1?" 

"I  don't  know.  It  may  have  been.  I  can't 
say." 

"And  you  stood  right  there  at  the  head  of  that 
gangway  and  gave  the  order  to  have  it  filled, 
didn't  you?" 

"I  don't  remember  giving  any  such  order." 

"But  I  do,  and  there's  the  man  you  gave  it  to. 


98  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Williams,"  McLean  called  as  the  sailor  passed 
them,  "Williams,  you  filled  the  tank  of  the  cap- 
tain's launch  at  noon  yesterday,  didn't  you*?" 

"Yes,  Sir." 

"By  whose  order?' 

"Mr.  Johnson's,  Sir." 

"That's  all.  Now  then,  Johnson,  the  tank's 
empty.  How  did  it  get  empty?" 

"How  in  hell  do  I  know?  Maybe  somebody 
drank  it;  I  didn't." 

"Never  mind  the  levity,  Johnson.  There's 
something  peculiar  about  the  turn  that  affairs  have 
taken  overnight.  I  can't  figure  it  out,  but  I'm 
not  through  yet." 

"I  wish  you  luck,"  sneered  the  mate,  as  he 
turned  to  go  below. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

COMPLICATIONS 

McLEAN  and  the  fisherman  spent  the  entire  fore- 
noon eagerly  searching  every  arm  and  cove  of  the 
creek  and  making  inquiries  at  the  few  scattered 
farmhouses  and  fishing  shacks  without  result.  Im- 
mediately after  dinner  the  surveyor  ordered  out 
the  yawl  and  a  lifeboat  with  instructions  to  drag 
the  waters  in  the  vicinity  of  the  island,  leaving 
Carroll  to  supervise  this  work  while  he  made  a 
long  and  fruitless  journey  inland  along  the  old 
swamp  road. 

Johnson,  who  had  taken  no  part  in  the  search, 
began  to  grow  restless  toward  evening.  He  paced 
the  quarter-deck  with  ever-increasing  impatience 
and  watched  with  morbid  intentness  for  the  return 
of  the  corps  from  the  day's  work. 

Shortly  after  dark  McLean  was  brooding  in 
his  room  when  he  was  aroused  by  the  creaking  of 
davit  blocks  and  went  on  deck  just  in  time  to 

99 


loo  EVE,  JUNIOR 

catch  a  glimpse  of  Johnson  through  the  dusk  being 
lowered  oversides  in  the  ship's  launch.  Looking 
up  quickly  the  mate  surprised  the  question  in  the 
other's  eyes  and  answered  it  in  a  gruff,  indifferent 
tone. 

"Going  over  to  the  spring  for  a  drink,"  he  said 
sullenly.  "Water  on  this  junk  makes  me  sick. 
It's  flat" 

McLean  returned  to  his  room  just  long  enough 
to  hear  the  launch  slipping  away  through  the 
night.  Then  he  went  again  to  the  rail,  where  he 
watched  the  gleam  of  her  stern  light  fade  as  she 
rounded  Spit  Point.  Prompted  by  a  vague  sus- 
picion that  he  did  not  attempt  to  define,  he  con- 
tinued to  stare  into  the  darkness  where  the  boat 
had  disappeared.  After  a  little  he  sensed,  rather 
than  saw,  a  dark  shape  moving  silently  out  from 
'behind  the  point.  It  was  the  launch,  lights  out 
and  headed  for  the  "eye  of  the  needle,"  beyond 
which  lay  the  river. 

Casually  he  strolled  amidships. 

"Get  my  hydroplane  ready  and  lower  her,"  he 
told  the  watch  in  quiet,  matter-of-fact  tones,  "I 
may  want  to  take  a  run  around  the  creek." 

Standing  at  the  rail  he  could  dimly  see  the 


COMPLICATIONS  101 

launch  slipping  out  through  the  "eye,"  a  blur  of 
gray  in  the  dark. 

"All  ready,  Sir,"  called  the  watch  from  the  foot 
of  the  accommodation  ladder;  and  McLean  de- 
scended and  entered  the  little  craft. 

A  touch  of  the  switch  darkened  the  running 
lights;  whereat  the  watch  registered  a  respectful 
protest. 

"It's  against  the  law,  Sir.  Might  be  there's  a 
Coast  Guarder  'round  here,  Sir,"  he  called  after 
the  fleeting  craft;  for  as  the  clutch  engaged  the 
whirling  shaft  the  little  vessel  was  gone  like  an 
arrow  into  the  night. 

Tearing  along  at  full  speed,  McLean  soon 
sighted  the  object  of  his  pursuit  entering  the  river. 
He  throttled  his  own  craft  down  to  the  speed  of 
the  launch,  and  followed  at  a  safe  distance.  As 
Johnson  passed  the  ruins  of  the  old  light  house, 
the  surveyor  could  see  him  trimming  his  oil  run- 
ning lights,  and  knew  that  the  mate  now  felt 
himself  safe  from  inquisitive  eyes.  He  had 
counted  on  this,  for  he  knew  that  Johnson,  trained 
in  the  school  of  the  mariner,  would  take  no  greater 
liberties  with  the  law  that  licensed  him  than  he 
deemed  absolutely  essential  to  his  purpose. 


1O2  EVE,  JUNIOR 

The  night  was  calm  and  clear  and  not  a  single 
wave  showed  a  crest  of  white  over  the  dark  ex- 
panse of  water.  For  this  and  for  the  lights  on 
the  launch  ahead  McLean  was  thankful.  Hours 
later  as  they  were  entering  the  harbor  the  Coast 
Guard  cutter  Pawnee  came  steaming  down  the 
channel  sweeping  the  river  with  her  searchlight, 
but  McLean  threw  in  his  switch  and  headed  off 
at  full  speed  on  a  diagonal  course  until  he  had 
passed  her,  then  cut  out  his  lights  and  renewed 
the  pursuit. 

The  harbor  was  dark  and  quiet,  and  while  the 
mate  chose  the  open  channel,  McLean  switched 
on  his  lights  again  and  slipped  up  through  the 
silent,  crowed  anchorage  on  a  parallel  course  that 
brought  the  two  boats  nearly  abreast.  At  the  end 
of  the  anchorage  he  slowed  down,  then  threw  out 
his  clutch  and  allowed  the  little  craft  to  drift  in 
the  shadow  of  a  big  tramp  while  he  watched  the 
launch  speed  on  ahead  and  glide  into  a  darkened 
dock  near  the  foot  of  Broadway. 

A  few  minutes  later,  leaving  his  hydroplane  se- 
curely moored  to  the  wharf  log,  McLean  followed 
the  ship's  officer  on  a  dead  run.  Emerging  from 
the  darkness  of  a  lane  which  led  to  Thames  Street, 


COMPLICATIONS  103 

he  caught  sight  of  Johnson  entering  a  dim,  canon- 
like  alley  half  a  block  away.  When  the  mate 
mounted  the  steps  of  a  house  conspicuously  better 
looking  than  its  neighbors,  he  slipped  into  a  near- 
by doorway  and  watched  while  Johnson  repeat- 
edly rang  the  bell  without  response.  At  length, 
with  a  grumbled  oath,  the  mate  made  his  way 
down  the  step  again  and  went  slowly  on  up  the 
narrow  street,  while  McLean  continued  in  his 
wake. 

At  Fleet  Street  Johnson  stopped  under  a  lamp- 
post, glanced  casually  up  and  down  the  wider 
thoroughfare,  then  walked  half  a  block  east  and 
entered  a  shabby-looking  furnished-room  house 
with  a  latchkey.  McLean  passed  the  house  a  few 
minutes  later  and  awaited  further  developments  in 
the  shadow  of  a  bulk  window  of  the  store  on  the 
corner.  Almost  immediately  Johnson  came  out 
again  followed  by  a  young  woman,  hatless  and 
rather  plainly  clad  in  a  dress  of  some  dark  ma- 
terial which  a  long,  light,  loose-fitting  coat  almost 
obscured.  They  walked  slowly  toward  the  cor- 
ner where  McLean  stood,  the  girl  talking  ex- 
citedly, the  man  suavely  reassuring  her. 

"I  looked  for  you  last  night,"  McLean  heard 


104  EVE,  JUNIOR 

her  saying  as  they  approached  and  slowly  passed 
him.  "You  said  you'd  come.  I  was  worried  and 
didn't  know  what  to  do.  I  was  afraid  you'd  gone. 
Men  generally  do  in  a  time  like  this." 

"I  was  tired  last  night — had  a  headache.  I 
didn't  leave  the  ship,"  was  Johnson's  soothing  re- 
ply. "But  you  musn't  worry,  little  woman.  I've 
told  you  that  I'd  marry  you  in  a  minute  if 

only "  But  the  rest  of  his  words  were  lost  in 

distance. 

McLean,  now  completely  off  his  guard  and  more 
mystified  than  ever,  resolved,  nevertheless,  to  fol- 
low them  a  little  further,  but  when,  a  few  min- 
utes later,  they  turned  into  a  moving-picture  place 
on  Broadway  he  was  forced  to  admit  that  he  was 
on  the  wrong  track. 

Determined  to  complete  his  mission  in  so  far  as 
it  even  vaguely  indicated  itself,  he  retraced  his 
steps  until  he  came  to  the  house  in  the  narrow, 
canon-like  street  at  which  Johnson  had  vainly 
sought  entrance. 

When  his  own  attempts  to  have  the  bell  an- 
swered met  with  silence,  he  went  next  door  and 
finally  succeeded  in  arousing  an  old  negro. 

"Dat  house  was  pinched  last  night,  boss,"  was 


COMPLICATIONS  105 

the  burden  of  his  answer;  and  McLean,  certain 
that  this  trail  would  lead  nowhere,  nevertheless 
inquired  into  the  details  and  made  his  way  to  the 
police  station.  Arrived  there,  however,  he  gained 
nothing  that  would  lead  to  further  pursuit  of  what 
he  concluded  was  a  wild-goose  chase. 

Again  he  returned,  hopeless  and  dejected,  to  his 
boat,  yet  strangely  elated,  too,  that  his  unwel- 
come "hunch"  had  not  borne  fruit;  for,  he  argued, 
it  would  be  better  to  find  Eve's  body  floating  in 
Bodkin  than  to  have  found  her  where  the  night's 
trail  had  led  him. 

As  McLean  came  alongside  of  the  platform  at 
the  foot  of  the  boarding  ladder  of  the  Iris  a  hand 
reached  out  of  the  darkness  and  laid  firm  hold 
on  the  bow  of  his  boat.  It  was  Skip  Carroll. 

"I  been  a-watchin'  the  doin's  on  this  here  vessel 
all  night,  and  a-waitin'  for  one  o'  ye  t'  come  back," 
he  said  in  a  low,  harsh  whisper  that  was  choked 
with  emotion.  "What'd  you  foller  him  for1?" 

Carroll  warped  his  bateau  alongside  the  hydro- 
plane, and  with  both  hands  on  the  gunwale  of  the 
little  craft  fixed  his  dark  eyes  on  McLean's. 

"Because  I  had  a  'hunch,'  "  the  latter  replied, 


io6  EVE,  JUNIOR 

meeting  his  gaze.  "I  had  a  'hunch'  that  led  in 
his  direction,  but  I  guess  I  was  wrong."  He  then 
related  the  events  of  the  night  and  included  an 
account  of  the  finding  of  the  pin,  an  item  which 
he  had  purposely  avoided  until  now  because  its 
presence  in  the  launch  was  so  utterly  inexplicable. 

"I  tell  ye,  McLean,"  Carroll  burst  out,  after 
an  interval  of  brooding  silence,  "the  more  I  figger 
on  this  here  business  and  the  more  I  1'arn  about  it 
the  more  sartain  I  git  that  that  there  damned 
rascal  of  a  mate  knows  more'n  he's  ownin'. 
How'd  Eve  git  clare  away  without  ary  boat  or 
raft  and  with  the  tide  a  good  fathom  over  the 
neck?  'Course,  she  could  swim,  but — an'  what'd 
she  go  for?  An'  how'd  that  there  pin  git  in  the 
la'nch  an'  the  gas  outen  the  tank1?  Why,  man, 
it's  plainer'n  the  nose  on  your  face  that  that  there 
la'nch  figgered  in  it  someways,  an'  that  there  mate 
knowed  where  the  la'nch  was  an'  what  she  was 
a-doin'  even  if  he  wa'n't  in  it  himself — which  I 
reckon  dam'  well  he  was.  Besides,  what's  he  want 
to  go  sneakin'  away  in  the  dark  for,  like  he  done 
to-night,  'less'n  there's  foul  weather  some'eres?" 

Finally,  Carroll  withdrew  to  fish  his  nets  along 


COMPLICATIONS  107 

the  bay  shore  below  Bodkin,  and  the  younger  man 
went  to  his  berth,  though  not  to  sleep. 

As  Skip  was  entering  the  "eye"  he  sighted  the 
running  lights  of  a  small  craft  passing  in  the  nar- 
rows just  off  the  ruins  of  the  old  light  house  at  the 
mouth  of  the  creek.  Instinctively,  he  guessed  it  to 
be  Johnson.  .  After  a  few  minutes  he  was  certain 
of  it,  for  as  the  launch  came  in  sight  of  the  Iris  her 
lights  were  darkened  and  she  headed  toward  Spit 
Point.  Carroll  directed  his  course  toward  the 
point  also.  When  he  reached  it  he  shut  off  his 
engine  and  lay  waiting,  well  within  the  shadow 
of  the  wooded  shore. 

As  he  had  surmised  from  what  McLean  had 
told  him  of  the  mate's  departure,  Johnson  in- 
tended to  effect  his  return  in  the  same  fashion. 
Bringing  the  launch  in  to  a  position  where  the 
point  intercepted  his  line  of  vision  to  the  Jm,  he 
stopped  the  craft  and  put  up  his  lights  again.  It 
was  while  he  was  thus  occupied  that  the  fisherman 
silently  poled  his  bateau  out  alongside  the  launch. 
Coming  thus  upon  him  out  of  the  darkness,  the 
mate  was  somewhat  startled  and  expressed  himself 
in  abusive  language. 

"What  the  hell  do  you  mean  by  sneakin'  out  on 


io8  EVE,  JUNIOR 

a  man  that  way,  you  dam'  fish  pirate?"  snarled 
Johnson. 

"An'  what  the  hell  do  you  mean  by  snoopin'  in 
an'  out  o'  this  here  creek  o'  nights  by  the  dark  o' 
the  moon,"  Carroll  thrust  hotly  back.  "Don't 
you  know  a  feller's  liable  to  have  his  license  took 
away  for  the  likes  o'  that?" 

"What  the  devil  do  you  know  about  it?" 

"Well,  I  seened  you  go  out  an'  I  seened  you 
come  in,  but  I  ain't  after  your  license,  I'm  after 
you,  an'  by  God,  I  got  ye !" 

And  Carroll  sprang  into  the  launch,  armed  only 
with  his  two  brawny  arms  and  his  hard,  knuckled 
fists.  The  next  instant  Johnson  whipped  out  an 
automatic  pistol  and  warned  the  big  fisherman  to 
get  back  in  his  boat.  But  the  hand  that  held  the 
weapon  trembled  as  a  cur  trembles  at  the  voice  of 
its  master,  and  Carroll  laughed  his  disdain. 

"Put  that  there  weepon  back  in  your  pocket, 
you  onery  coward,  you !"  he  commanded  in  a  voice 
that  drawled  fearlessly. 

"Get  back  in  your  boat,  I  say!"  shrieked  the 
mate,  his  tones  high-pitched  and  nervous. 

Carroll  advanced  upon  him  without  fear  or  hesi- 
tation. The  next  moment  his  hand  had  closed 


COMPLICATIONS  109 

firmly  about  the  gun.  In  the  brief  struggle  that 
ensued  the  weapon  was  discharged,  but  the  bullet 
whistled  harmlessly  across  the  water  while  the 
mate,  unnerved  by  the  report,  released  his  hold 
and  retreated  toward  the  stern  of  the  launch. 

The  fisherman  laughed. 

"I  ain't  a-goin'  t'  hurt  you  none,"  he  said  con- 
temptuously, putting  the  pistol  in  his  pocket;  "I 
reckon  you  know  what  I  come  for  and  you'd  best 
speak  up  about  it  almighty  quick,  'cause  I  might 
jus'  happen  to  get  mad  an'  lam  you  one." 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,"  the 
mate  half  whimpered. 

"Look-a-here,  Johnson,"  began  Carroll,  plant- 
ing himself  firmly  before  the  other  man,  "there's 
good  an'  there's  bad  in  all  of  us,  an'  there's  truth 
an'  there's  lies,  too.  Now  I  ain't  never  seen  you 
a-fore  this  mornin'  an'  I  can't  size  up  how  much 
of  you's  good  an'  truth  an'  how  much  of  you's 
bad  an'  lies,  but  I  can  figger  from  what  I've  seen 
an'  heered  to-night  that  a  right  considerable  por- 
tion of  you's  them  same  last  articles.  You  been 
a-carryin'  on  some  right  onlikely  didoes  for  a  man 
that's  playin'  straight  an'  considerin'  what's  hap- 
pened, it  sartain  looks  as  though  you-all  mought 


no  EVE,  JUNIOR 

'a'  had  a  hand  in  it.  If  you  have  an'  there's  a 
pound  o'  white  meat  on  you  that  ain't  all  bad  an' 
lies,  open  your  mouth  an'  talk.  It's  my  daughter, 
man,  my  girl — all  in  the  world  that's  left  to  me  of 
kith  an'  kin — an'  you  can  bet  your  hide  an'  taller 
that  I  ain't  a-goin'  t'  lose  her  easy — not  while 
there's  breath  in  my  body  an'  half  a  leg  under  me, 
I  ain't!" 

"You  talk  like  a  fool,"  sneered  Johnson,  some 
measure  of  his  composure  recovered.  "I  haven't 
got  any  strings  to  your  daughter.  Never  even 
saw  her.  It's  McLean  that's  after  her,  not  me. 
Besides,  what  the  devil  do  I  want  with  her? 
There's  enough  women  chasing  me  as  it  is,  let 
alone  me  kidnaping  'em,  if  that's  what  you  mean." 

Carroll  took  the  captured  weapon  from  his 
pocket  and  emptied  the  clip  of  cartridges  over- 
board. Then  he  handed  Johnson  the  useless  gun 
and  stepped  up  on  the  gunwale  to  board  his 
bateau. 

"I'm  not  done  with  you  yet,"  he  warned  as  he 
went.  "What  you're  a-sayin'  may  be  true,  but 
I'm  a  skinned  eel  if  it  sounds  right." 

"You're  a  skinned  eel,  all  right,"  snarled  John- 
son. At  the  same  moment  he  struck  the  fisherman 


COMPLICATIONS  1 1 1 

a  severe,  glancing  blow  behind  the  ear  with  the 
butt  of  his  pistol. 

Carroll  crumpled  up,  then  fell  forward  in  a 
heap  in  the  bottom  of  his  bateau,  his  right  foot 
smashing  the  needle  valve  of  the  carburetor  as  he 
landed.  He  lay  quite  still  and  motionless,  and 
the  mate  reached  out  and  gave  his  boat  a  shove 
that  sent  it  shoreward  to  ground  among  the  tall 
marsh  grass  that  lined  the  water's  edge. 

As  McLean  was  getting  dressed  a  little  before 
six  there  came  a  knock  at  his  door  and  the  wireless 
operator  entered  with  a  message. 

"Heard  the  aerial  raising  Cain  and  got  up  to 
see  what  the  trouble  was,"  the  young  man  ex- 
plained hastily.  "Naval  Academy  said  he  was  try- 
ing to  raise  us  last  night.  Important.  Sailing 
orders  from  Washington." 

McLean  read  the  message : 

"17.  S.  C.  &  G.  S.  S.  Ins, 
"Assistant  McLean^ 
"Acting  Captain  Johnson: 
"Abandon    survey    Patapsco    and    tribu- 
taries further  orders.     Proceed  at  once  N. 


112  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Lat.  35  08',  W.  Long.  75  30',  vicinity  Cape 
Hatteras,  pick  up  U.  S.  C.  &  G.  S.  S. 
Alert  engaged  hydrographic  survey  proposed 
breakwater.  Coal  Newport  News  and  re- 
ceive written  verification  this  order.  Expe- 
dite. 

"H.  O.  WHITMAN, 
'  'Superintendent." 

Scarcely  taking  time  to  finish  dressing,  McLean 
jumped  into  his  hydroplane  and  sped  over  to  the 
island,  where  he  found  no  one  but  Plum.  The  old 
negro  was  still  heartbroken  over  the  loss  of  his 
"li'l  Missy." 

"We're  ordered  to  Diamond  Shoals,"  McLean 
told  him,  while  Plum  nodded  and  stared  va- 
cantly out  over  the  creek,  his  old  eyes  misty  with 
unshed  tears.  "Tell  Mr.  Carroll  that  I  shall 
write  to  him  from  Newport  News,  and  that  he 
must  endeavor  to  keep  in  touch  with  me  in  regard 
to  Miss  Eve.  He  can  get  some  one  around  the 
creek  to  write  a  letter  for  him  now  and  then. 
And,  Plum,  if  Miss  Eve  comes  back,  give  her 
this  for  me,  please."  And  he  gave  the  old  negro 
the  pin  which  had  so  strangely  come  back  to  him. 


COMPLICATIONS  113 

After  all,  he  suddenly  thought  with  a  twinge  of 
pain,  had  that  been  her  way  of  returning  to  him  a 
present  she  no  longer  valued*?  But  surely  she 
would  not  have  thrown  it  in  the  ship's  launch. 

And  yet 

An  hour  later  the  Iris  steamed  out  through  "the 
eye  of  the  needle"  and  headed  southward  for  the 
Craighill  Channel  to  the  Bay. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  IMPOSTOR'S  REVENGE 

WHEN  McLean  had  retrieved  his  book  and  left 
the  shack  in  anger,  Eve,  equally  angered  yet  know- 
ing not  how  to  justify  herself  in  the  surveyor's 
eyes,  had  sobbed  herself  to  sleep  in  the  old  Chip- 
pendale chair.  An  hour  later  she  awoke  with  a 
start,  vaguely  conscious  of  an  intruding  presence. 

The  front  door  stood  open  and  fitful  gusts  of 
the  rising  wind  swept  in  and  made  the  light  on 
the  table  before  her  flicker  and  dance  uncertainly. 
Before  she  could  turn  a  strong  draught  had  snuffed 
it  out. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  stood  for  a  panic- 
stricken  instant  in  the  darkness.  From  the  half- 
closed  door  of  her  own  room  came  a  faint  ray  of 
light.  Her  eyes  sought  it  hungrily.  She  sensed 
a  quick,  unreasoning  fear  that  urged  her  toward 
it.  Flinging  back  her  chair  to  clear  the  way,  Eve 
made  a  wild,  precipitate  dash  for  the  beacon  when 
114 


THE  IMPOSTOR'S  REVENGE      115 

a  hand  reached  out  of  the  darkness  about  her  and 
firmly  detained  her.  With  a  smothered  sob  she 
sank  on  her  knees  to  the  floor,  for  they  trembled 
with  the  weakness  of  fright  and  refused  her  sup- 
port. 

Her  dash,  however,  had  carried  her  into  the 
area  upon  which  the  light  from  her  room  fell,  and 
raising  her  eyes  fearfully  she  saw  the  face  of  her 
captor.  The  sight  of  the  known  nerved  her.  With 
a  quick  movement  she  freed  herself  from  John- 
son's grasp  and  sprang  to  her  feet.  In  the  next 
instant  she  had  put  the  table  between  them. 
Standing  at  bay,  she  threatened  his  advance  with 
the  upraised  lamp  as  a  weapon  of  defense. 

Considering  discretion  the  better  part  of  valor 
the  mate  withdrew  somewhat  into  the  shadow. 

"You  little  red-headed  bob-cat,  you !"  he  flared 
angrily,  when  he  thought  himself  arrived  at  a  safe 
distance;  "I  came  over  here  to  help  you  out  of  a 
scrape  and  this  is  the  thanks  I  get." 

"I  ain't  in  no  scrape,"  Eve  retorted,  lowering 
the  lamp  a  trifle. 

"Oh,  you  ain't,  eh1?"  sneered  Johnson.  "I  sup- 
pose you  tried  to  palm  it  off  on  me  by  telling  Mc- 
Lean that  I  was  here  that  night.  But  he  knows 


ii6  EVE,  JUNIOR 

how  his  book  got  behind  that  picture.  He's  just 
sent  a  wireless  to  Washington  about  it.  The  gov- 
ernment won't  stand  for  any  of  your  nonsense. 
In  a  day  or  two  you'll  be  landed  in  jail  and  what's 
more,  I'll  see  that  your  dad  goes  along  with  you." 

Eve  set  the  lamp  down  with  a  crash. 

"It's  all  a  dam'  lie,"  she  cried,  stamping  her 
foot  in  righteous  indignation.  "You  can't  prove 
a  word  of  it.  Dad  never  done  nothin'  in  his  life 
that  wasn't  just  right;  and  me,  I  never  seen  the 
old  book  'til  it  fell  out  from  behind  that  picture 
to-night.  I  reckon  if  anybody  knows  anything 
about  it  it's  you,  you  big,  brass-buttoned  bully !" 

Johnson  advanced  toward  the  table  again. 

"So  you  did  tell  him  I  was  here,  eh,  and  you 
blamed  the  book  business  on  me,"  he  snarled  be- 
tween clenched  teeth. 

"  'Pears  like  as  though  the  shoe  fits  you  better'n 
me,"  Eve  retorted,  reaching  for  the  lamp  again. 
"You  seem  to  know  a  mighty  sight  about  that 
there  book." 

"What  did  you  tell  him?  How  much?"  he 
demanded  uneasily. 

"I  didn't  tell  him  anything.  He  didn't  give 
me  a  chance.  He  just  picked  the  book  up  and 


'It's  all  a  dam'  lie,"  she  cried.     "You  can't  prove  a 
word  of  it  " 


THE  IMPOSTOR'S  REVENGE      117 

looked  at  me,  and  said  somethin'  about  me  a-know- 
in'  all  about  it  and  then  a  lump  just  riz  up  in  my 
throat  and  I  couldn't  say  nothin'  a-tall,  and  he  ups 
and  walks  out  in  a  huff  and  slams  the  door  behind 
him/'  Eve  ended  on  the  verge  of  tears,  for  the 
lump  had  come  back  in  her  throat. 

Johnson's  face  cleared  somewhat  with  a  smile 
of  relief  and  satisfaction.  If  Eve  was  telling  the 
truth  McLean  had  not  wanted  him  for  that,  any- 
way, when  he  left  the  wireless  room,  he  concluded. 
In  any  event,  it  would  be  difficult  to  connect  him 
with  the  disappearance  of  the  book  unless  Eve 
had  actually  seen  him  in  the  act  of  placing  it  be- 
hind the  picture,  a  possibility  which  he  no  longer 
feared.  His  previous  visit  to  the  island,  however, 
was  a  clue  that  he  was  anxious  to  eliminate. 
His  mind  was  quick  in  grasping  the  key  to  a  situa- 
tion which  would  give  him  control  of  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  three-fold  purpose — the  settling 
of  his  score  with  McLean,  which  was  paramount; 
the  possession  of  Eve,  a  condition  of  secondary 
importance  only  because  it  was  the  prime  agency 
of  the  first;  and  finally,  the  removal  of  the  con- 
necting link  between  himself  and  his  perfidious 


n8  EVE,  JUNIOR 

actions.  It  was  toward  this  end  that  he  now  began 
to  work  with  insidious  plausibility. 

"Well,  it's  all  right,  girl,"  he  said  in  a  kindly 
tone  that  he  had  quickly  assumed  for  his  purpose. 
"I  couldn't  believe  that  you  had  told  on  me  after 
I  had  promised  your  dad  immunity  if  you  said 
nothing  about  the  other  night.  But  you're  in  trou- 
ble now,  and  I  want  to  help  you.  No  matter  how 
the  book  got  there  it  looks  as  though  you  had 
something  to  do  with  it,  and  the  surveyor  believes 
that  you  put  it  there.  Now  when  they  arrest  you 
how  are  you  going  to  prove  that  you  didn't4?" 

"Do  you  reckon  they'll  sure  enough  arrest  me1?" 
asked  Eve,  her  eyes  dilated  with  sudden  fear. 

"Of  course  they  will,"  the  mate  assured  her 
severely.  "That  book  is  worth  thousands  of  dol- 
lars. Your  taking  it  was  plain  robbery,  and  steal- 
ing from  the  government  is  a  mighty  serious  of- 
fense." 

"But  I  didn't  take  it,  I  tell  you,"  Eve  cried 
passionately;  "I  never  even  seen  it  before." 

"Perhaps,  but  how  are  you  going  to  prove  that 
when  they  get  you  in  court?" 

"Court?'  the  girl  echoed  vaguely.  "Will  they 
do  that,  too?  A  judge  and  lawyers  and  all?" 


THE  IMPOSTOR'S  REVENGE      119 

"Certainly.  And  then  after  that  they'll  very 
likely  send  you  to  Atlanta  for  five  or  six  years." 

"Atlanta?    Jail,  you  mean*?" 

"Yes.  The  nearest  Federal  prison.  Now  lis- 
ten: you've  got  to  get  away  from  here  before  they 
can  send  somebody  over  to  arrest  you,  and  if 
you'll  take  my  advice  you'll  go  now  and  not 
run  the  risk  of  being  caught  to-morrow  morning, 
maybe.  The  law  acts  quickly,  you  know,  and 
once  that  message  of  McLean's  reaches  the  proper 
authorities  at  Washington  there'll  be  a  warrant 
issued  for  your  arrest  and  an  officer  sent  over  for 
you  at  once.  He  might  even  get  here  to-night 
yet." 

Eve  stared  at  him  in  wide-eyed  terror.  Then 
came  a  thought  like  a  ray  of  sunlight  stealing 
in  upon  the  midnight  of  confusion  that  possessed 
her  mind. 

"Douglas — that  is,  Mr.  McLean — wouldn't  let 
'em  arrest  me,  even  if  I  had  taken  the  old  book, 
and  I  didn't,"  she  told  him  with  a  faint,  reassured 
smile. 

"Oh,  wouldn't  he?"  Johnson  shattered  her 
hopes  with  a  sneer.  "Haven't  I  just  told  you 
that  he  reported  the  whole  affair  the  moment  he 


I2o  EVE,  JUNIOR 

got  back  aboard  his  ship*?  I  was  standing  right  out- 
side the  wireless  room  and  heard  every  word  of  it. 
That's  the  reason  I  came  over  here  to  you  as  fast 
as  I  could.  I'm  trying  to  help  you  out  of  this, 
but,  of  course,  if  you'd  rather  go  to  jail,  why 
that's  your  lookout." 

"But  I  can't  go  'way  and  leave  Dad  and  old 
Plum." 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  leave  them  when  they 
come  for  you,  anyway,"  the  mate  told  her. 

He  stopped  an  instant  as  an  idea  formed  itself 
to  fit  his  motive.  Attacked  in  a  vulnerable  quar- 
ter he  was  sure  that  she  would  surrender  to  his 
plan. 

"Look  here,  young  lady,"  he  continued  craft- 
ily— "one  case  like  this  in  court  often  begets  an- 
other. They'll  probably  want  me  to  appear  as  a 
witness  for  the  government,  and  if  they  do,  why 
then  I'll  have  to  tell  the"m  what  brought  me  here 
in  the  first  place — the  under-sized  fish  your  old 
man's  been  taking.  Now  to  avoid  that  the  only 
thing  I  can  do  is  to  put  your  dad  and  Plum  under 
arrest  at  the  same  time  they  take  you.  Other- 
wise they'd  have  a  case  against  me  for  neglect  of 
duty.  You're  getting  in  pretty  deep,  girl,  and 


THE  IMPOSTOR'S  REVENGE      121 

you're  dragging  the  rest  of  them  in  with  you. 
Take  my  advice  and  pull  out  while  you  can.  Now 
is  not  a  bit  too  soon." 

"How  can  I<?  Where  will  I  go?  What  will  I 
do1?"  Eve  exclaimed,  distraught  with  fear  and  con- 
fused beyond  the  power  to  think. 

At  the  mention  of  peril  so  closely  associating 
itself  with  those  she  loved,  all  the  combativeness 
melted  out  of  her  spirit,  leaving  her  limp  and  un- 
sustained  before  the  chaos  that  towered  now  so 
imminent  in  her  path  and  in  theirs.  To  save  them 
she  would  do  anything,  make  any  sacrifice.  She 
sank  into  the  chair  she  had  so  fearfully  abandoned 
when  the  wind  blew  out  the  light.  Presently, 
through  the  confusion  of  time,  place  and  sound 
that  beset  her  senses  she  heard  Johnson's  voice 
again. 

"Get  a  few  things  together,"  she  heard  him  say- 
ing, "and  come  with  me — now — before  it  is  too 
late;  and  I  will  take  you  where  they  will  not 
find  you — where  you  will  be  just  as  safe  and 
happy  as  you've  been  here  in  Bodkin.  Come, 
now;  in  the  morning  they'll  be  here — perhaps  be- 
fore. Who  knows*?" 

And  that  insistent  "now"  moved  her  to  action. 


122  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Wearily,  as  if  the  weight  of  passing  years,  in- 
stead of  hours,  had  left  their  burden  on  her  shoul- 
ders, she  got  to  her  feet  and  made  her  way  to  her 
room.  And  Johnson,  his  heavy  face  flushed,  his 
narrowed  eyes  filled  with  the  glint  of  greed  to 
possess  her,  followed.  At  the  threshold,  however, 
he  hesitated  an  instant  too  long  for  the  door  was 
closed  in  his  face  and  he  heard  the  grating  of  the 
bolt  as  it  slid  into  its  keeper. 

Thoroughly  aroused  now  and  angry,  his  first 
thought  was  that  she  had  eluded  him,  but  when  he 
was  about  to  throw  his  weight  against  the  door 
and  demand  admittance  his  crafty  judgment  coun- 
seled patience.  He  would  wait  and  listen.  If 
she  attempted  to  leave  by  the  window  he  would 
hear  her.  And  as  he  listened  he  smiled,  for  he 
knew  by  the  sound  of  her  movements  that  she  was 
getting  her  things  together.  He  cautioned  Eve 
to  hurry,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  bolt  was 
slipped  back  and  the  door  opened. 

"I  am  ready,"  she  said  simply,  looking  squarely 
into  Johnson's  greedy,  covetous  eyes. 

And  now  as  they  went  out  and  Eve  reverently 
closed  the  door  of  the  only  home  she  had  ever 
known,  she  lingered  for  a  moment  with  her  hand 


THE  IMPOSTOR'S  REVENGE      123 

upon  the  knob  as  in  parting  with  a  friend  of  her 
childhood.  No  written  message  could  she  leave, 
no  word,  no  reason  for  her  going,  no  hint  of  her 
destination;  for  of  this  she  had  not  even  given  a 
thought.  It  was  her  sacrifice  for  them,  for  their 
well  being,  their  happiness,  their  future;  for  her- 
self it  did  not  matter.  With  her  hand  still  lin- 
gering in  affectionate  farewell  on  the  knob  of  the 
closed  door  she  raised  her  face  in  gentle  appeal 
toward  the  cloud-dark  sky  while  her  eyes  sought 
out  a  single  star  shining  dimly  through  a  rift  in 
the  threatening  mass  of  gray. 

"Keep  my  Daddy  and  old  Plum,  Good  Lord, 
and  don't  let  nobody  nor  nothin'  harm  'em.  And 
— and  tell  'em  good-by  for  me,"  Eve  whispered 
to  the  star.  And  even  as  she  looked  the  rift  was 
closed ;  the  star  was  gone. 

At  the  wharf  she  silently  entered  the  yawl  and 
took  a  seat  in  the  stern-sheets  with  her  possessions 
still  firmly  clutched  under  her  arm. 

A  little  while  later  they  rounded  Spit  Point.  It 
was  here  that  Eve  had  her  last  heartbreaking 
glimpse  of  the  island  with  the  tall  brick  chimney 
of  her  home  rearing  its  head  above  the  tree  tops 
like  some  ever  watchful  sentinel.  As  the  wooded 


124  EVE,  JUNIOR 

point  intervened  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands 
and  for  one  brief  moment  gave  way  to  the  heart- 
ache that  throbbed  in  her  bosom  and  burned  in  her 
throat.  In  another,  however,  she  had  recovered 
some  measure  of  her  former  composure.  The  man 
at  the  oars  must  never  know  her  weakness;  for 
instinctively  she  still  regarded  him  as  an  enemy 
before  whom  nothing  short  of  an  armed  truce 
should  be  maintained.  Presently  a  small  log 
wharf  loomed  up  in  shore  and  Johnson  rowed  in 
alongside  of  it. 

"Get  out  here  and  wait  for  me,"  he  ordered 
quietly,  "I'm  going  for  a  launch."  Silently  the 
girl  obeyed.  "I'll  be  back  in  half  an  hour,"  the 
mate  called  in  a  low  voice  as  he  rowed  away. 

"Wait,"  Eve  cried,  as  a  thought  came  to  her, 
"where  are  you  a-goin',  to  the  ship?" 

"Yes.  I  must  change  my  clothes  and  get  a 
launch.  We  can't  go  where  we're  going  in  this 
thing,"  he  replied  impatiently. 

"Let  me  go  with  you,"  she  pleaded.  "If  I  could 
just  see  Mr.  McLean  and  he  would  listen  to  me 
I  could  tell  him  and  he  would  understand.  Oh, 
I  know  he  would." 

"What  do  you  want  to  do,  spoil  the  whole 


THE  IMPOSTOR'S  REVENGE      125 

thing,  now  we're  started*?"  snapped  the  mate. 
"McLean's  sore,  I  tell  you.  If  you  went  aboard 
there  now  he'd  very  likely  order  your  arrest  at 
once." 

"I  don't  believe  he'd  do  any  such  a  thing,"  Eve 
retorted  hotly,  her  eyes  full  of  tears. 

"Well,  never  mind  what  you  believe  or  don't," 
Johnson  called  back  as  he  plied  his  oars  again. 
"I  know  what's  best  for  you,  so  just  you  wait 
there  until  I  get  back."  And  he  rowed  away,  as- 
sured that  on  his  return  she  would  still  be  there; 
for  on  Spit  Point  she  was  as  isolated  from  the 
other  side  of  the  creek  and  her  island  home  as  if 
he  had  landed  her  on  the  opposite  shore  of  the 
bay. 

There  was  no  road  and  the  long,  narrow  penin- 
sula was  covered  with  dense  underbrush  and 
heavily  wooded  except  where  the  swamps  were 
deep  and  impassable.  Here  the  cattails  and  bull- 
frogs alone  could  survive.  To  traverse  safely  the 
intervening  distance  between  where  Johnson  had 
left  her  and  her  home,  a  matter  of  ten  miles  by 
land,  would  have  occupied  the  better  half  of  a 
day.  At  night  it  was  all  but  impossible.  Eve 


126  EVE,  JUNIOR 

sank  down  upon  the  top  log  of  the  wharf  in  an 
attitude  of  utter  resignation. 

Nearly  an  hour  later  the  mate  returned  in  the 
launch  from  the  Iris.  He  had  waited  until  every 
one  except  the  watch  had  retired  or  was  below 
deck;  then,  after  a  whispered  word  with  the  watch 
and  a  petty  bribe  for  his  silence,  he  had  entered 
the  launch  and  made  off  to  complete  the  vile  work 
so  recently  begun. 

They  were  just  passing  through  the  "eye  of  the 
needle"  when  the  storm  broke.  At  another  time 
Johnson  would  have  turned  back  and  waited  for 
calmer  weather.  But  to-night  he  pressed  on. 


CHAPTER  X 

AN    EVENTFUL    NIGHT 

OUT  on  the  seething  river  the  launch  from  the 
Iris  made  heavy  weather  of  it.  Pitching  and  roll- 
ing, now  on  the  crest  of  a  wind-flattened  wave, 
now  in  the  smothering  trough  between,  the  stout 
little  craft  raced  on  into  the  eye  of  the  storm, 
wave-washed  from  stem  to  stern.  Only  the  heavy 
canvas  spray-hood,  which  Johnson  had  clewed  on 
as  they  left  the  creek,  saved  the  boat  from  swamp- 
ing. As  it  was,  the  bilge  pump  of  her  engine 
could  scarcely  keep  her  clear  of  water.  Now  and 
then  the  flywheel  picked  it  up  and  the  friction 
pulley  on  the  magneto  would  slip  until  the  engine 
almost  stopped  for  lack  of  spark,  while  the  launch 
lost  headway  and  pounded  like  a  dead  thing  in  the 
seas  that  beset  her. 

Huddled  up  under  the  spray-hood  amidships, 
Eve  sat  unmindful  of  the  storm,  thinking  only  of 
the  sorrow  that  her  going  would  bring  to  those  for 
127 


128  EVE,  JUNIOR 

whom  she  went.  If  only  she  could  have  left  some 
word,  some  reason  for  her  act  that  they  might 
know  and  understand  instead  of  thinking  that  she 
had  simply  deserted  them  when  they  needed  her 
so  much — that  was  the  feature  of  her  going  that 
hurt  her  most.  Never  for  a  moment  was  she  con- 
scious of  the  sacrifice  she  made.  She  wanted  noth- 
ing more  than  vindication  in  their  eyes — but  to 
know  that  they  knew  she  had  done  them  no  injus- 
tice— but  to  feel  that  they  felt  that  she  loved  them 
now  as  ever.  The  constant  recurrence  of  the  idea 
of  what  they  must  think  of  her  on  the  morrow 
kept  her  on  the  verge  of  tears ;  yet  never  once  did 
she  give  her  feelings  sway — for  the  man  at  the 
wheel  must  not  suspect  her  weakness. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  they  finally  entered 
the  calmer  waters  of  the  lower  harbor.  The  storm 
had  abated  somewhat  by  now,  but  the  rain  still 
fell  in  sheets  that  misted  the  distances  as  with  fog 
and  made  it  difficult  to  steer  by  marks  on  land. 
When  they  were  off  the  foot  of  Broadway,  how- 
ever, the  rain  ceased  entirely  and  Johnson  sought 
out  a  low-lying,  ramshackle  pier  that  was  shielded 
in  utter  darkness.  Here  he  made  a  landing, 
moored  the  launch  securely  and  helped  Eve  ashore. 


AN  EVENTFUL  NIGHT  129 

At  the  head  of  the  pier  he  led  the  way  into  a 
dark,  narrow,  cannon-like  street  upon  which  the 
rears  of  many  towering  warehouses  abutted.  The 
heavy  rain  had  washed  it  clean  and  it  occurred  to 
Eve  that  the  myriad  round  cobbles  with  which  it 
was  paved  looked  like  thousands  of  pans  of  new- 
baked  biscuits  all  set  out  in  rows  to  cool. 

The  street  turned  sharply  to  the  left  now  and 
entered  upon  a  block  of  less  pretentious  build- 
ings, junk  shops  and  smaller  storage  houses  which 
gave  forth  the  musty  odor  of  old  rope  and 
mildewed  sailcloth  as  they  passed.  In  the  next 
square  a  further  decline  was  to  be  observed,  for 
here  cheap  tenements  and  sweat  shops  were  inter- 
spersed with  lesser  ware — and  storage  houses.  The 
increasing  squalor  had  the  effect  of  still  further 
depressing  Eve's  low  spirits,  so  that  at  last  she 
felt  as  though  she  must  scream  and  run  from  sheer 
melancholy. 

Finally,  Johnson  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a 
block  more  squalid  and  forsaken  than  any  through 
which  they  had  yet  passed  and  ran  his  glance 
along  the  numbered  transoms. 

"Here  we  are,"  he  said,  speaking  almost  for 
the  first  time  since  they  had  left  Bodkin. 


130  EVE,  JUNIOR 

A  negro  woman  answered  the  bell  and  admitted 
them  in  silence.  The  girl  entered  with  a  strange 
new  sickening  sense  of  fear  and  sinking  of  spirit 

that  she  could  not  define. 

« 

"Tell  Miss  Maggie  to  step  here  a  moment,"  the 
mate  told  the  negro  woman.  Then  with  an  easy 
familiarity  which  somehow  had  the  effect  of  mak- 
ing Eve  more  uneasy  than  ever  he  went  into  the 
front  room  and  sat  down,  while  she,  knowing 
not  what  else  to  do,  did  likewise. 

In  a  moment  the  woman  he  had  asked  for  en- 
tered. She  was  very  short  and  very  fat  and  her 
small  gray  eyes  were  as  cold  and  penetrating  as 
the  March  wind.  Her  hair,  too,  was  gray  except 
for  the  switch  that  crowned  it.  This  had  been 
done  in  the  original  color,  no  doubt,  a  peculiar 
mud-yellow  which  many  bleachings  of  peroxide 
had  failed  to  efface. 

"Well,"  Miss  Maggie  ejected  the  word  as 
though  glad  to  be  rid  of  it. 

"My  little  friend  here  has  had  some  trouble  at 
home,"  Johnson  began,  getting  to  his  feet.  "I 
want  you  to  take  care  of  her  for  a  few  days,  Miss 
Maggie,  until  I  can  find  a  place  for  her  to  go 
permanently."  He  stopped  as  the  woman's  eyes 


AN  EVENTFUL  NIGHT  131 

narrowed;  then,  with  his  off  eye  he  winked  en- 
lightenment, to  which  Miss  Maggie  replied  with 
a  barely  perceptible  nod  of  her  head. 

"All  right!"  she  agreed,  snapping  her  jaws  shut 
on  the  end  of  the  word. 

By  this  time,  Eve,  somewhat  aroused  from  the 
lethargy  of  indifference  that  possessed  her,  turned 
to  Johnson  with  a  frown  of  protest. 

"I  didn't  have  any  trouble  at  home,"  she  con- 
tradicted. And  she  would  have  said  more,  but 
the  mate  cut  her  short. 

"Never  mind  that  now,  Eve.  Miss  Maggie  will 
look  out  for  you,  and  meanwhile  we'll  see  what 
can  be  done."  He  pulled  out  his  watch  and 
looked  at  it  regretfully.  "Damn  it,  it's  after  one 
o'clock.  I've  got  to  be  hustling  back.  See  you 
to-morrow  night,  Eve,  and  we'll  talk  things  over. 
Meanwhile,  don't  worry — Miss  Maggie' 11  fix  you 
up  all  right.  Good  night." 

As  he  turned  to  go  he  motioned  for  the  woman 
to  follow  him.  In  the  vestibule  he  paused  for  a 
moment's  talk  with  her. 

"Go  easy,  Maggie,"  he  whispered;  "give  her  a 
room  on  the  third  floor  if  you've  got  one  and  let 


132  EVE,  JUNIOR 

her  alone  until  I  come  to-morrow  night.    Just  see 
that  she  doesn't  leave  the  house,  that's  all." 

Two  hours  later  Eve  was  aroused  from  her 
sleepless  bed  in  the  bare  little  room  on  the 
third  floor  by  a  sudden,  unaccountable  commotion 
downstairs.  With  her  heart  in  her  throat  she  crept 
to  the  door,  and,  not  daring  to  open  it,  listened  at 
the  keyhole.  As  she  waited  breathless  and  fearful 
there  in  the  darkness  the  sounds  grew  louder  and 
took  definite  form  and  meaning.  First  had  come 
the  crash  of  a  door  burst  inward  and  the  tread 
of  many  feet  in  the  lower  hallway,  followed  by 
the  deep  voice  of  men  demanding  something;  then 
heavy  footsteps  ascending  the  stairs  and  a  series 
of  knocking  as  on  numerous  doors  of  rooms  on 
the  floor  below.  Mingled  with  these  now  came 
the  screams  of  women  and  the  oaths  of  men  and 
the  sounds  of  a  struggle  as  though  some  were  fight- 
ing among  themselves. 

On  the  floor  about  her,  too,  where  she  had  felt 
herself  to  be  alone,  voices  awoke  and  hurried  feet 
ran  here  and  there  in  bewildering  confusion  as 
though  their  owners  sought  in  vain  some  avenue 
of  escape  from  a  danger  that  Eve  as  yet  could  only 


AN  EVENTFUL  NIGHT  133 

sense.  Came  now,  too,  the  pleadings  of  women 
and  the  appeals  of  men  to  be  delivered  from  some 
evil  that  she  could  not  even  guess. 

Now  some  one  was  coming  up  the  stairs  from 
the  second  floor.  On  the  floor  about  her  there 
came  a  momentary  hush,  then  a  scampering  of 
feet,  a  slamming  of  doors  and  a  turning  of  keys 
in  locks;  then  another  hush  while  the  footsteps 
climbed  upward.  As  they  reached  the  top  and 
entered  the  hall  there  came  a  sharp  series  of  raps 
on  a  door,  a  scream  and  a  curse,  and  the  door  was 
opened.  There  was  a  short,  vain  parley  and  a 
man  and  a  woman  descended  the  stairs,  the  woman 
crying  hysterically,  the  man  sullenly  protesting. 
When  this  had  been  repeated  several  times,  Eve 
heard  those  relentless  footsteps  at  last  approach- 
ing her  own  door.  Frightened  beyond  the  power 
to  speak  she  resolved  to  die  rather  than  open  that 
door.  With  a  little,  smothered  exclamation  of 
despair  she  threw  herself  on  the  floor  and  disap- 
peared under  the  bed  just  as  the  inevitable  rat-a- 
tat-tat  came  in  nerve-racking  staccato  on  the  door. 

For  an  interval  she  stopped  breathing  lest  the 
unknown  should  hear  her.  His  hand  was  now 
upon  the  knob  and  he  rattled  it  impatiently. 


134  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Again  came  the  rapping  of  his  club — she  was  sure 
it  was  a  club. 

"Open  in  the  name  of  the  law!"  cried  a  deep 
masculine  voice  outside,  and  Eve  shivered  and 
shuddered  and  shrank  a  little  further  under  the 
bed.  In  vain  was  the  summons  repeated. 

Came  now  a  great  crash.  The  door  bulged  in- 
ward and  flew  open  and  two  big  policemen  came 
tumbling  in  one  over  the  other.  The  one  on  top 
was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant  searching  the  room 
with  his  electric  flashlight. 

"Empty,  b'gosh!"  he  exclaimed  as  though  sin- 
cerely disappointed. 

"Not  much !"  grunted  his  brother  officer  as  he 
gathered  himself  up  from  the  floor.  "Look  at 
this!"  And  he  held  up  Eve's  shoes  in  one  hand 
while  the  other  sought  to  smooth  out  the  dent 
which  the  heel  had  made  in  his  temple  as  he  struck 
j  it  when  he  fell  to  the  floor. 

To  lie  by  and  see  her  property  thus  crudely  ex- 
posed was  too  much  for  Eve. 

"S'pose  you  just  put  them  shoes  down!"  she 
commanded  with  vehemence.  Then,  realizing  that 
she  had  disclosed  her  hiding  place,  she  began  to 
cry. 


AN  EVENTFUL  NIGHT  135 

The  big  fellow  with  the  flashlight  was  on  his 
knees  in  an  instant  and  half  under  the  bed  in  the 
next. 

"Ah,  there  you  are,  my  little  one !"  he  exclaimed 
good-naturedly,  flashing  his  light  in  her  face. 
"Now  suppose  you  come  out  and  let  us  have  a 
look  at  you." 

"I  won't!"  she  declared. 

"Oh,  you  won't,  eh?"  he  echoed,  laughingly, 
and,  without  more  ado,  caught  her  by  what  was 
nearest  him — which  happened  to  be  her  stock- 
inged feet — and  pulled  her  out.  She  rewarded 
him  with  a  resounding  slap  in  the  face  the  moment 
she  was  clear  of  the  bed. 

The  officer  took  his  punishment  with  a  good- 
humored  smile,  however,  and  stood  her  on  her  feet 
before  him.  She  was  fully  dressed  except  for  her 
shoes  and  hat,  not  having  had  the  heart  to  re- 
move her  clothes  before  she  lay  down.  By  this 
time  the  other  policeman  had  found  the  single 
light  the  room  afforded  and  switched  it  on.  When 
Eve  now  saw  the  uniforms  of  her  captors  and 
realized  that  they  must  be  policemen  come  to  ar- 
rest her  she  was  frantic  with  fear. 


136  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"Where's  your  pardner?"  asked  the  big  fellow 
in  his  kindly  tone. 

Eve  stared  at  him  for  a  moment  as  if  she  had 
not  heard  him,  and  when  she  replied  it  was  his 
turn  to  stare;  for  she  said: 

"Please,  Mr.  Policeman,  I  didn't  take  the  book. 
I  didn't,  I  didn't,  I  never  even  seen  it,"  she  re- 
iterated, crying  softly. 

The  officer  regarded  her  for  a  long,  curious  mo- 
ment, then  he  smiled. 

"Of  course  you  didn't,"  he  agreed  soothingly. 
"But  where's  the  other  fellow — your  friend? 
You  didn't  come  here  alone,  did  you?" 

"No-o,  yes — I  don't  know  what  you  mean," 
was  her  confused  reply.  "But  honest,  Mister,  I 
didn't  take  the  book.  Honest  injun,  I  didn't." 

"Well,  we'll  have  to  take  you,  anyway,"  the 
other  officer  interjected  impatiently,  still  rubbing 
his  bruised  temple.  "Get  your  shoes  and  hat  on 
and  let's  go.  While  you  was  so  infernal  all 
dressed  up  for  bedtime  you  might  o'  been  wearin' 
them  shoes,  too,"  he  ended  in  disgruntled  reflec- 
tion, feeling  the  lump  that  was  coming  where  the 
dent  had  been  a  moment  before. 

"Please  don't  take  me,  Mister!"  Eve  appealed 


AN  EVENTFUL  NIGHT  137 

tearfully  to  the  big  fellow  with  the  smiling  eyes. 
"I  didn't  do  anything,  honest  I  didn't!  I  don't 
know  how  the  old  book  got  there,  but  I  didn't 
take  it.  Please  go  'way  and  let  me  be !" 

Before  the  big  fellow  had  reflected  on  this 
speech  sufficiently  to  gather  her  meaning  his 
brother  officer  grasped  Eve  by  the  wrist  and  at- 
tempted to  drag  her  out  of  the  room ;  whereupon, 
Eve,  with  a  quick  movement,  bent  forward  and 
sank  her  teeth  in  the  offending  hand.  The 
wounded  man  gave  a  mingled  howl  of  rage  and 
pain  and  snatched  the  injured  hand  away  to  in- 
spect the  damage.  The  big  fellow's  laughing  re- 
mark that  it  served  him  right,  angered  him  the 
more.  With  a  muttered  oath  he  flung  out  of  the 
room  and  went  down  the  stairs  calling  back  testily 
as  he  went : 

"Well,  bring  her  down  yourself,  the  dam'  little 
cat!  Hope  she  bites  your  wooden  dome  off!" 

"Come,"  coaxed  the  big  fellow  kindly,  "we  only 
want  you  for  a  witness.  The  Cap  will  let  you  go 
as  soon  as  he  gets  your  name  and  address." 

"And  won't  they  lock  me  up  and  put  me  in  jail 
for  a  long,  long  time1?"  the  girl  pleaded  with  a 


138  EVE,  JUNIOR 

tearful  simplicity  that  completely  mystified  the 
officer. 

"Of  course  not — not  if  you  tell  the  Captain 
what  he  asks  you."  He  stopped  and  looked  at  her 
for  an  intent,  thoughtful  moment.  "By  gum,"  he 
added,  "I've  a  good  mind  to  sneak  you  out  the 
back  way  and  let  you  go.  I  don't  know  how 
the  deuce  you  got  here,  but  you  don't  seem  to 
belong  to  this  sort  of  thing,  and  you  oughtn't  to 
be  mixed  up  in  it.  But,  no,  hang  it,"  he  con- 
tinued in  regretful  afterthought,  "I  can't  do  that, 
either,  because  Kelly  would  very  likely  squeal 
after  the  way  you  bit  him.  I'm  awful  sorry,  but 
I  guess  you'll  have  to  come  along." 

It  was  Eve's  turn  to  be  questioned.  Standing 
near  the  end  of  the  long  row  of  men,  women,  girls 
and  policemen  lined  up  before  the  high  railing  in 
the  night  court  at  the  Southeastern  police  station, 
she  felt  a  sudden  sense  of  shame,  a  sinking  of 
heart,  a  desire  to  efface  herself  that  she  might  not 
be  counted  as  one  of  the  motley  company  she  had 
thus  unwittingly  been  thrust  amongst.  She  had 
heard  the  uniformed  man  at  the  high  desk  behind 
the  rail  repeat  his  examination  again  and  again 


AN  EVENTFUL  NIGHT  139 

as  he  called  upon  one  after  another  of  the  pris- 
oners assembled  there;  had  heard  their  replies, 
now  shamefaced  and  submissive,  now  brazenly 
defiant,  now  carelessly  indifferent;  had  seen  them 
hand  over  the  high  rail  to  the  desk  as  collateral 
for  their  appearance  in  the  morning  money, 
watches,  jewelry — anything  that  was  deemed  of 
sufficient  value  to  secure  their  temporary  release; 
had  seen,  too,  a  girl  no  older  than  herself  re- 
manded to  a  cell  and  led  away  by  the  turnkey  be- 
cause she  had  nothing  that  would  serve  as  bond. 

And  from  that  moment  the  blood  had  seemed 
to  stop  its  coursing  through  her  veins,  her  heart 
to  cease  its  beating.  Her  feet  felt  cold  and  her 
head  swam  dizzily.  The  salt  tears  burned  her 
eyes,  but  would  not  flow.  Her  throat  ached  so 
that  she  wondered  if  she  would  be  able  to  speak 
when  that  gray-haired,  stern-visaged  inquisitor  di- 
rected his  questions  toward  her. 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"I  won't  tell,"  Eve  replied  in  a  quiet,  deter- 
mined voice. 

"What1?"  the  officer  exclaimed  in  surprise. 

"I  won't  tell  my  name,"  Eve  reiterated  stub- 
bornly, lowering  her  eyes. 


140  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"Be  careful,  young  woman,"  the  Captain 
sternly  warned.  "There's  a  place  for  such  as  you. 
Where  do  you  live?" 

"I  ain't  a-tellin'  that,  either,"  she  replied 
firmly. 

The  man  at  the  desk  regarded  her  with  a 
frown  of  disapproval  and  his  face  flushed  angrily. 
The  big,  kindly  officer  who  had  arrested  her  was 
standing  nearby.  He  inclined  his  head  and  whis- 
pered his  advice  to  Eve. 

"I'd  answer  what  he  asks  if  I  were  you,"  he 
suggested  in  his  friendly  way.  But  the  girl  only 
looked  up  at  him  and  smiled  a  wan  little  fright- 
ened smile  and  shook  her  head  in  silent  negation. 

"I'll  give  you  one  more  opportunity  to  answer 
my  questions,"  the  Captain  told  her  severely. 
"Now:  your  name  and  address!" 

"I  won't  tell,"  was  her  firm,  unchanged  reply. 

"Turnkey,"  called  the  Captain,  red  with  anger, 
"take  this  young  woman  back  and  lock  her  up 
until  she  changes  her  mind." 

"Pardon  me,  Sir,  if  I  may  offer  a  word,"  said 
the  big  fellow,  stepping  up  to  the  rail  in  Eve's 
behalf,  "but  there  seems  to  be  some  mistake  here. 
We  found  this  girl  alone " 


AN  EVENTFUL  NIGHT  141 

"There  ain't  any  mistake,  Cap'n,"  Officer  Kelly 
interjected,  exhibiting  above  the  heads  of  the 
others  his  right  hand  with  the  imprint  of  Eve's 
teeth  in  little  red  and  blue  horse-shoes  on  the 
back  of  it.  "We  had  to  bust  the  door  down  to 
get  her,  an'  this  is  what  she  did  to  me.  She's  a 
reg'lar  cat,  Cap'n." 

"We'll  let  the  judge  decide  in  the  morning 
whether  or  not  there  has  been  a  mistake,"  said  the 
Captain  tartly.  "Take  her  away,  turnkey."  And 
he  turned  to  the  next  prisoner. 

A  few  moments  later  Eve  heard  the  click  of  the 
spring  lock  on  the  steel  door  of  the  cage-like  cell 
into  which  she  had  been  thrust,  and  she  sank  upon 
the  bare  board  bench  with  a  sob  of  despair.  In- 
stinctively, her  hand  sought  her  throat,  as  if  to 
relieve  the  tightness  that  oppressed  it.  At  once 
she  became  conscious  of  a  sense  of  loss.  The  lit- 
tle golden  anchor  that  McLean  had  given  her  was 
gone. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    HIGHWAYS    AND    HEDGES 

THE  Reverend  Malcom  Courtney  Tilghman  sat  at 
breakfast  with  his  sister  in  their  apartment  in 
Mount  Vernon  Place.  Dr.  Tilghman  was  an 
extremely  young  man,  as  years  go,  being  just  a 
little  past  thirty-four;  but  in  point  of  experience 
and  ability  he  had  already  proved  himself  worthy 
of  his  divinity  degree.  Nor  was  there  ever  pres- 
ent in  his  manner  anything  of  pedantry  or  sanc- 
tity. He  was  universally  regarded  as  a  plain  man 
who,  placing  his  work  in  the  foreground  of  his 
life,  was  yet  bigger  than  his  work. 

Independently  wealthy,  he  had  devoted  his 
life  to  the  spiritual  uplift  of  humanity  because 
he  loved  this  work  above  all  else  and  in  tempera- 
ment, personality  and  sheer  force  of  character  he 
was  eminently  fitted  for  it. 

But  while  many  circumstances  had  combined 
to  make  Dr.  Tilghman's  career  the  unqualified  suc- 
142 


THE  HIGHWAYS  AND  HEDGES  143 

cess  it  was,  there  was  yet  an  element  which  stood 
for  more  than  any  other  single  component,  and 
this  was  Mary  Tilghman,  his  sister.  Miss  Tilgh- 
man  was  two  years  his  senior  and  all  his  life 
she  had  been  to  him  a  mother  and  a  counselor 
as  well  as  a  sister,  whom  he  loved  almost  to 
the  point  of  idolization ;  for  their  parents  had  died 
when  the  children  were  still  quite  young. 

"Why,  Malcom,  it  isn't  at  all  like  you  to  read 
the  paper  during  breakfast,"  Mary  Tilghman  re- 
monstrated in  her  kindly,  smiling  way. 

"Pardon  me,  Mary  T.,"  he  laughed,  putting  the 
paper  aside,  "it  isn't  there,  anyway." 

"What,  dear?" 

"I  was  looking  for  some  account  of  the  closing 
of  that  Dallas  Street  house.  Captain  James,  of 
the  Southeastern,  promised  that  it  should  be  closed 
last  night.  James  is  a  pretty  clean  man  and  I 
believe  that  he  will  keep  his  word  if  it  is  possible." 

"I  suppose  you're  thinking  of  Dillon?" 

"Yes,  Mary  T.,  it  is  Dillon  that  I'm  thinking 
of.  Dillon  has  likewise  promised  to  break  Cap- 
tain James  if  he  closes  this  house.  It  is  the  usual 
story,  dear,  political  greed  versus  public  morals. 


144  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Dillon  owns  the  house  and  Dillon  controls  the 
district." 

"And  are  there  no  laws  for  such  as  he?" 

"Unfortunately,  my  dear,  Dillon  is  a  maker  of 
law-makers.  Practically  every  man  who  has  gone 
to  the  council,  the  legislature  and  to  Washington 
from  Dillon's  district  owes  to  Dillon  a  large  meas- 
ure of  the  support  that  sent  him  there.  It  is  a 
well-known  saying  down  in  that  section  that  no 
man,  however  popular,  could  be  elected  to  public 
office  in  the  face  of  Dillon's  opposition.  James' 
captaincy  will  not  be  worth  the  price  of  his  uni- 
form if  this  man's  influence  is  permitted  to  have 
its  way  with  him." 

"Then  Captain  James  will  lose  his  head,  as  the 
saying  is,  for  closing  the  Dallas  Street  house?" 

Dr.  Tilghman  smiled,  as  in  pleasant  anticipa- 
tion. 

"I  think  not,  Mary  T. ;  in  a  quiet  way  I've  been 
on  Dillon's  trail  for  nearly  three  years  and  now 
I  believe  I've  got  him.  If  I  have,  the  Dallas 
Street  house  isn't  a  widow's  mite  compared  to  the 
reforms  that  will  be  instituted  in  the  Southeast- 
ern." 

Perhaps  the  doctor  would  have  gone  into  de- 


THE  HIGHWAYS  AND  HEDGES  145 

tails,  but  the  maid  at  this  moment  announced  that 
Captain  James  wanted  him  on  the  'phone. 

The  little  courtroom  of  the  Southeastern  police 
station  was  crowded  with  spectators  when  the  ma- 
tron led  Eve  Carroll  to  a  seat  on  the  bench  re- 
served for  witnesses.  The  other  girl,  whom  she 
had  seen  remanded  to  a  cell  the  night  before 
because  she  had  no  bond  to  insure  her  appearance 
in  the  morning,  was  already  there,  tearful  and 
shamefaced ;  but  of  the  long  line  of  witnesses  who 
had  been  released,  only  a  few  were  present,  the 
majority  having  forfeited  their  collateral  rather 
than  face  a  public  court  in  daylight. 

In  the  prisoners'  dock  sat  Miss  Maggie,  cool 
and  defiant.  The  judge  had  already  begun  his 
examination  of  her  when  Dr.  Tilghman  arrived. 
Close  upon  the  heels  of  the  minister  came  an- 
other man,  a  tall,  lean,  lantern-jawed  man  of 
middle  age  and  rather  distinguished  appearance. 

With  a  purpose  in  mind,  he  proceeded  directly 
to  its  accomplishment.  Crossing  the  floor  of  the 
courtroom  while  officers  and  deputies  stood  aside 
with  deferential  nods,  he  passed  in  front  of  the 
judge's  desk  without  so  much  as  an  upward  glance 


146  EVE,  JUNIOR 

toward  that  dignitary,  and  stopped  beside  the 
prisoners'  dock  where,  regardless  of  the  fact  that 
he  interrupted  the  court  in  the  midst  of  a  ques- 
tion to  the  prisoner,  he  engaged  Miss  Maggie  in 
a  whispered  conversation. 

Meanwhile,  Dr.  Tilghman  had  taken  a  seat 
on  the  witnesses'  bench  beside  Eve  and  from  this 
point  of  vantage  he  noted  the  proceedings  with 
rising  indignation. 

At  last  the  tall  man,  with  what  appeared  to  be 
a  series  of  final  admonitions,  left  the  woman  to 
the  consideration  of  the  court  and  sought  a  seat 
on  the  bench  among  the  witnesses. 

The  examination  now  proceeded  without 
further  interruption  and  was  presently  concluded 
with  little  result,  for  the  woman's  replies  were 
as  noncommittal  as  though  the  whole  dialogue  had 
been  rehearsed  but  an  hour  before. 

One  after  another  the  few  witnesses  were 
called,  no  attempt  being  made  to  substantiate  the 
testimony  of  one  by  that  of  another.  And  when 
Dr.  Tilghman  saw  how  the  case  was  being  con- 
ducted he  refused  to  testify.  He  had  purposely 
employed  no  counsel  to  aid  in  the  prosecution 
because  he  meant  to  give  the  police  court  a  fair 


THE  HIGHWAYS  AND  HEDGES     147 

opportunity  to  convict  of  its  own  accord.  If  it 
failed  to  do  so  there  was  always  recourse  to  a 
higher  court.  And  now  as  he  sat  .there  and  saw 
the  intangible  power  of  that  tall,  thin  politician, 
Dillon,  pervading  the  court,  obscuring  the  issues 
and  blocking  the  natural  course  of  law  and  order, 
he  began  to  feel  glad  that  events  were  being  so 
shaped  that  recourse  to  the  criminal  courts  would 
be  necessary  to  secure  the  just  punishment  of  these 
wrongdoers. 

Only  one  policeman  had  been  called  to  testify, 
although  all  who  had  participated  in  the  raid 
were  present.  The  judge  was  about  to  close 
the  case  and  announced  his  intention  of  so  doing 
when  Dr.  Tilghman  got  to  his  feet. 

"Your  Honor,  I  respectfully  beg  tp  call  your 
attention  to  this  witness  who  has  not  yet  been 
examined,"  he  said,  indicating  Eve;  and  with  a 

» 

frown  of  displeasure  the  judge  bade  Eve  take  the 
stand. 

Eve,  led  by  the  minister,  mounted  to  the  little 
platform  and  held  up  a  trembling  right  hand 
while  the  bailiff  swore  her. 

"What  is  your  name1?"  came  the  judge's  first 


148  EVE,  JUNIOR 

question  at  the  conclusion  of  this  fearful  cere- 
mony. 

"I — I  can't  tell  you,"  she  replied,  her  voice 
trembling  with  fear  and  excitement. 

The  judge  frowned  darkly  and  the  vision  of 
the  horrid  little  cage  in  which  she  had  spent  the 
night  swam  before  her  eyes. 

"You  will  answer  the  questions  of  this  court, 
young  woman,  or  surfer  the  consequences,"  the 
judge  declared  with  heat. 

"I  won't  answer  that  question,"  Eve  retorted, 
her  indignation  for  the  moment  outweighing  her 
fear. 

"The  time  of  this  court  cannot  be  wasted  in 
this  manner,"  said  the  judge  severely,  the  remark 
being  general  in  its  intent,  but  directed  in  par- 
ticular to  Dr.  Tilghman. 

Dillon  crossed  one  leg  over  the  other  and  spoke 
in  his  sharp,  incisive  way.  "Waive  that  question, 
judge!" 

"Well,  er — a,  very  well;  as  you  say.  Now 
then,  young  woman,  where  do  you  live"?" 

Eve's  lips  trembled  for  a  moment  as  if  she 
were  going  to  cry,  then  of  a  sudden  her  eyes 


THE  HIGHWAYS  AND  HEDGES     149 

blazed  angrily  and  she  gave  a  little  impatient 
stamp  of  her  foot. 

"The  man  with  the  buttons  asked  me  the  same 
thing  last  night.  I  didn't  tell  then  and  I  won't 
tell  now." 

"This  is  contempt  of  court,  young  woman," 
the  judge  blazed,  when  Dillon  cut  him  short. 

"Call  her  'Jane  Doe,'  judge,  address  'Canton,'  " 
he  suggested  with  an  amused  smile. 

"My  name  ain't  Jane  Doe  and  I  don't  live  in 
Canton,  wherever  that  might  be,"  Eve  declared 
indignantly,  turning  toward  Dillon  a  flushed, 
angry  face  that  made  her  doubly  beautiful. 

"Proceed  with  your  examination,  judge,"  said 
Dillon,  grinning  good-naturedly,  for  he  was  sure 
that  this  witness  would  divulge  nothing  contrary 
to  his  interests. 

"Now,  then,"  continued  the  judge  at  the  bid- 
ding of  his  boss,  "how  came  you  to  be  at  this 
house?" 

"Why,  I  just  came,  that's  all." 

"But  how  did  you  happen  to  be  at  this  par- 
ticular house1?" 

"I  object  to  that  question,  judge,"  snapped 
Dillon,  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  "Would  you 


150  EVE,  JUNIOR 

imply  that  this  house  is  different  from  any  other1? 
It  sounds  very  much  that  way,  unless  I  am  mis- 
taken." 

"Oh,  not  at  all,  not  at  all,  Mr.  Dillon!  Per- 
haps I  had  better  reframe  the  question  if  it  is 
so  ambiguous,"  the  judge  hastened  to  retract. 
"Suppose  you  tell  us  what  brought  you  to  this 
house,  young  woman." 

"Well,  part  o'  the  way  I  walked." 

The  judge  rapped  severely  for  order. 

"I  refuse  to  examine  this  witness  any  further," 
he  declared,  red  with  anger. 

Dr.  Tilghman  arose  and  addressed  the  court. 

"Pardon  me,  your  Honor,  but  may  I  have  the 
privilege  of  asking  the  witness  a  few  questions'?" 

"You  may,"  the  court  agreed  testily.  "If  you 
can  make  her  say  anything  intelligible,  help  your- 
self." 

"Thank  you,"  the  minister  replied  and  turned 
to  the  girl.  "Would  you  mind  telling  us  why  you 
came  to  this  house4?" 

Eve  studied  the  minister  for  a  long,  intent  mo- 
ment and  somehow  she  decided  that  here,  at  last, 
was  a  friend.  Still,  she  was  wary.  "I  didn't 


THE  HIGHWAYS  AND  HEDGES     151 

have  any  other  place  to  go,"  was  her  noncom- 
mittal answer. 

"I  don't  quite  understand  what  you  mean  by 
that,"  said  Dr.  Tilghman,  as  Dillon  laughed  at 
the  girl's  reply.  "Surely  you  have  a  home  and 
parents  or  a  guardian  or  friends  to  take  care  of 
you." 

"No — not  any  more,"  Eve  replied,  as  a  choking 
sob  arose  in  her  throat. 

"Is  that  the  reason  you  went  to  the  Dallas 
Street  house*?" 

"No,  I  can't  tell  you  why  I  went — I  just  did — 
that's  all." 

"Who  took  you?' 

Eve  shot  the  minister  a  startled,  fearing  glance. 

"Nobody,"  she  replied  quietly. 

"You  had  a  home  sometime,  somewhere — was 
it  here  in  the  city*?" 

"No!" 

"May  I  ask  where  it  was?" 

"Yes,  you  may  ask,  but  I  won't  tell  you." 

"When  did  you  come  to  the  Dallas  Street 
house?" 

"Last  night." 

"Were  you  ever  there  before?" 


152  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"Never."    Eve  was  on  the  verge  of  tears  now. 

"Or  at  any  place  like  it?" 

"No — no — never,"  she  half  sobbed.  Then  she 
turned  pleadingly  to  the  judge.  "Please,  oh, 
please,  Sir,  let  me  go  'way  from  this  here  place ! 
I  ain't  done  anything,  honest  I  ain't.  If  it's  that 
old  book  you  want  me  for,  Mister,  I  never  even 
seen  it.  The  big  policeman  over  there — he  knows 
— I  told  him  about  it." 

"What's  this  about  a  book?"  said  the  judge, 
addressing  the  big  officer  whom  Eve  had  indi- 
cated. 

"I  don't  just  know,  your  Honor,"  the  police- 
man replied,  coming  forward.  "When  we  first 
placed  the  little  girl  under  arrest  she  said  some- 
thing about  a  book — that  she  had  not  taken  it — 
but,  of  course,  we  didn't  know  anything  about 
it,  and  I  told  her  that  we  only  wanted  her  for 
a  witness  in  this  case." 

"Very  well!  Now  then,"  turning  toward  Dr. 
Tilghman  again,  "have  you  finished  with  the  wit- 
ness?" 

"I  think  so,  yes!" 

"In  that  event  the  case  is  concluded.     The 


THE  HIGHWAYS  AND  HEDGES     153 

charge  against  the  defendant  is  dismissed,"  the 
judge  promptly  announced. 

Miss  Maggie  as  promptly  heaved  her  ponder- 
ous frame  out  of  the  chair  in  the  prisoner's  docket 
and  waddled  smilingly  toward  Dillon  who  had 
arisen  to  meet  her. 

The  majority  of  the  spectators  dispersed 
quickly  and  in  a  few  moments  the  courtroom  was 
empty  except  for  the  principals  and  a  couple  of 
newspaper  men.  Eve,  not  knowing  what  was 
now  expected  of  her,  remained,  anxious  and  un- 
certain, on  the  witness  stand  until  Dr.  Tilghman 
went  over  to  her,  and,  taking  her  hand  in  his  own 
in  a  friendly,  reassuring  way,  led  her  down. 

"I  give  you  all  fair  warning,"  he  said,  turning 
to  include  the  court,  Dillon  and  Miss  Maggie  as 
he  spoke,  "that  this  case  is  only  begun.  I  shall 
present  the  matter  before  the  Grand  Jury  and  ask 
that  an  indictment  be  returned  against  you,  Miss 
Rebstock  and  you  as  well,  Mr.  Dillon." 

The  politician  looked  at  the  minister  and 
laughed,  a  jeering,  contemptuous  laugh  that  was 
meant  to  advertise  his  fearlessness. 

"Go  as  far  as  you  like,  Doctor.  Glad  you  have 
the  time  to  spare.  I  am  honored,  I  assure  you," 


154  EVE,  JUNIOR 

he  retorted,  and,  making  a  sarcastic  bow,  turned 
for  a  further  word  with  Maggie  Rebstock.  A 
moment  later,  without  paying  heed  to  any  one, 
he  put  on  his  hat  and  left,  walking  with  that  long, 
easy,  swinging  stride  that  seemed  silently  to  de- 
mand the  right  of  way.  The  woman  followed 
him  almost  immediately. 

The  witnesses,  with  the  exception  of  Eve  and 
the  minister,  had  already  gone.  The  newspaper 
men,  eager  for  the  girl's  apparently  unusual  story, 
came  up  to  them  now  and  began  to  direct  a  rapid 
fire  of  questions  toward  Eve,  to  all  of  which  she 
would  make  no  definite  replies.  One  of  the  re- 
porters had  a  camera  with  which  he  attempted  to 
take  her  picture,  but  the  moment  she  understood 
what  he  was  about  she  turned  her  back.  When 
he  persisted  she  became  furious,  and  with  a  quick 
upward  dash  of  her  hand  knocked  the  instrument 
out  of  his  grasp  so  that  it  fell  to  the  floor  and  the 
lens  was  broken.  Then  Eve  burst  into  tears  and 
sank  weakly  upon  the  witness  bench  and  cried  out 
the  anguish  that  had  filled  her  heart  to  overflow- 
ing since  she  left  the  island. 

"Call  a  taxi,  please,"  said  Dr.  Tilghman,  "I 
am  going  to  take  this  little  girl  to  my  sister." 


CHAPTER  XII 

MOUNT    VERNON    PLACE 

AFTER  leaving  the  courtroom  Eve  sank  into  the 
cushions  of  the  taxicab  with  a  sense  of  utter  ex- 
haustion of  mind  and  body.  Dr.  Tilghman  spoke 
to  her  now  and  then,  but  she  discouraged  him  with 
monosyllabic  replies. 

At  last,  as  the  machine  drew  up  at  a  curb,  the 
minister  turned  toward  her  with  a  friendly  smile. 

"Here  we  are,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand  to 
help  her  alight. 

On  the  pavement  Eve  stood  for  a  moment  look- 
ing up  at  the  towering  brown-stone  apartment  in 
front  of  which  they  had  stopped  while  Dr.  Tilgh- 
man turned  to  pay  the  driver.  Her  eyes  went  to 
the  roof  first,  as  if  to  measure  its  height,  then  trav- 
eled slowly  downward,  taking  in  every  detail  as 
she  lowered  them.  At  the  basement  level  she 
stopped,  stared  for  a  horrified  instant,  then  turned 
and  dashed  at  top  speed  down  the  street ;  for  there 
155 


156  EVE,  JUNIOR 

again,  on  the  basement  windows,  were  the  dreaded 
bars  of  steel. 

The  next  instant  Tilghman  was  in  full  pursuit. 
And  though  Eve  ran  with  the  easy  grace  and  swift- 
ness of  a  startled  deer  he  laughingly  caught  her 
at  the  end  of  the  block. 

"Please,  please,  Mister,  don't  lock  me  up 
again!"  she  pleaded,  more  breathless  with  fright 
than  with  running. 

"My  dear  child,"  he  reassured  her  in  his  quiet, 
friendly  way,  "I  am  not  going  to  lock  you  up 
anywhere.  I  only  want  to  take  you  to  my  sister, 
that  she  may  look  after  you  until  your  people  may 
be  found." 

"I'm  not  a-goin'  to  tell  you-all  where  to  find 
'em,  and,  anyway,  you  wouldn't  a-caught  me  if 
I  hadn't  a-had  my  arms  full.  Besides,  there's  bars 
on  the  winders,  Mister,"  Eve  objected.  "I  seen 
'em  just  now.  That's  why  I  run." 

"Oh,  you  mean  the  basement  windows," 
laughed  the  minister.  "Why,  so  there  are,  but 
there  are  no  bars  on  our  windows.  Come,  now, 
we'll  go  right  on  back  and  I'm  sure  that  you  will 
not  be  sorry  for  coming." 

At  the  elevator,  however,  Eve  took  fright  again 


MOUNT  VERNON  PLACE         157 

and  would  have  made  another  dash  for  freedom 
had  not  the  minister  been  timely  in  restraining  her. 
For  here,  indeed,  was  a  semblance  of  the  dreaded 
cage  of  steel  in  which  she  had  spent  the  night. 
She  gave  a  little  cry  of  alarm  when  it  began  to 
ascend,  and  had  to  be  assured  that  this  was  a  per- 
fectly proper  thing  for  an  elevator  to  do. 

At  the  sixth  floor  they  went  forth  from  the  lift 
and  presently  entered  an  apartment,  the  like  of 
which  Eve  had  never  seen  before.  She  stared  in 
dumb,  almost  worshipful,  admiration  at  the  hun- 
dreds of  books  that  filled  the  dull  mahogany  cases 
with  which  the  walls  were  lined.  She  had  never 
dreamed  that  there  were  so  many  books  and  found 
herself  wondering  wistfully  what  they  were  all 
about.  Perhaps  some  day  she  would  know !  This 
thought,  so  big,  so  startling,  obsessed  her  mind  for 
the  moment  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else. 

"Mary  T.!  Oh,  Mary  T.!"  called  the  min- 
ister, leaving  Eve  to  stand  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  her  eyes  devouring  this  treasure  house  of 
books,  while  he  went  from  room  to  room  in  search 
of  his  sister.  "Ah,  there  you  are,  dear !"  she  heard 
him  saying.  "Come,  I  have  brought  you  a  vis- 
itor." 


158  EVE,  JUNIOR 

And  when  Eve  saw  the  tall,  smiling,  motherly 
looking  woman  with  whom  Dr.  Tilghman  re- 
turned, she  sensed  a  strange,  new  ease  of  mind  and 
felt  suddenly  very  much  at  home.  She  extended 
her  hand  to  meet  Miss  Tilghman's  friendly,  cor- 
dial greeting.  Then,  realizing  that  the  minister 
was  at  a  loss  to  make  her  known  to  his  sister  she 
said  quite  simply  as  their  hands  met,  "My  name 
is  Eve." 

Dr.  Tilghman  laughed  heartily  and  took  her 
other  hand  in  his  own. 

"Eve!  Ah,  indeed!"  he  exclaimed;  and  his 
words  were  not  irreverent.  "No  wonder,  Mary 
T. !  Behold;  the  original  woman !" 

Mary  Tilghman  took  Eve's  little  suit  box  and 
coat  and  made  her  comfortable  in  a  big  wicker 
rocker  full  of  pillows  while  the  minister  laugh- 
ingly related  his  experience  in  bringing  her  home 
and  described  with  good-natured  appreciation  the 
details  of  the  scandalous  scene  enacted  in  the 
street  below.  Whereupon,  his  sister  gently  took 
him  to  task. 

"The  poor  dear!"  she  commiserated,  putting  a 
comforting  arm  about  Eve's  shoulders.  "Why 


MOUNT  VERNON  PLACE         159 

didn't  you  'phone  at  once  for  me,  Malcom,  when 
you  decided  to  bring  Eve  home1?" 

"I  suppose  I  wanted  to  have  the  fun  of  doing 
it  myself,"  he  replied  boyishly. 

"Were  you  very  much  afraid  of  him1?"  Miss 
Tilghman  asked  of  Eve. 

"Oh,  no,  not  of  him,  I  reckon,"  said  Eve,  smil- 
ing up  at  them.  "It  was  the  ride  and  them  awful 
bars  and  that  there  little — little  iron  cage  we  come 
up  in.  But,  of  course,  I'm  not  skeered  a  bit,  now." 

"Have  you  lived  in  the  city  long?"  asked  Miss 
Tilghman,  noting  the  girl's  colloquialisms. 

"It  seems  like  years  and  years,"  Eve  replied 
wistfully,  "but  I  only  came  last  night." 

At  this  juncture,  the  minister,  fearing  that  fur- 
ther questioning  would  but  hurt  and  embarrass 
Eve,  called  his  sister  into  his  study  and  explained 
to  her  in  a  few  words  as  much  of  the  girl's  story 
as  he  understood. 

"But,  Malcom,"  Mary  Tilghman  protested  at 
the  conclusion  of  his  account,  "what  shall  we  do? 
Should  we  not  make  an  immediate  effort  to  find 
her  people  and  return  her  to  them?  Or  do  you 
think  it  better  to  wait  until  she  herself  indicates 
some  desire  to  return?" 


160  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"I  think  we  had  better  wait,  dear.  She  seems 
to  have  an  all-sufficing  reason  for  keeping  her 
identity  secret  and  she  resents  every  effort  that  is 
made  to  disclose  it.  Meanwhile,  you  will  not  ob- 
ject to  having  her  here,  will  you,  Mary  T.?" 

"Not  in  the  least,  Malcom,  but  'idle  hands,* 
you  know,  dear;  she  should  have  something  to  do, 
something  to  occupy  her  attention  for  at  least  a 
little  while  each  day." 

"I  dare  say  you  will  find  her  very  willing  to 
do  anything  you  may  suggest.  She  does  not  look 
like  a  girl  who  has  been  used  to  sitting  by  with 
folded  hands  while  some  one  waited  on  her.  Per- 
haps her  own  initiative  will  save  you  this  neces- 
sity." 

"I  was  thinking  of  Moya,  Malcom.  She  is 
leaving  at  the  end  of  the  week  to  be  married; 
but,  of  course,  one  cannot  ask  one's  guest  to  be- 
come one's  maid." 

"Hardly,"  laughed  her  brother.  "Now  you 
run  along  and  entertain  our  little  visitor  while  I 
prepare  my  address  for  the  mission  folk  to-night." 

Among  the  books  and  articles  of  brass  on  the 
library  table  beside  which  Eve  was  sitting  was 
a  little  leather-framed  inscription  in  raised  letters 


MOUNT  VERNON  PLACE         161 

of  gold :  God  is  Love.  She  picked  it  up  and  was 
studying  it  intently  when  Miss  Tilghman  re- 
turned. She  turned  it  first  to  the  left,  then  to  the 
right  and  finally  upside  down,  while  a  frown  of 
perplexity  drew  her  brows  together  to  make  a  lit- 
tle vertical  line  just  above  her  nose.  Still  hold- 
ing it  upside  down,  she  turned  to  the  minister's 
sister. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

Miss  Tilghman  regarded  her  attentively  for  a 
puzzled  moment.  "It  is  an  excerpt  from  the 
fourth  chapter  of  the  First  Epistle  of  John,"  she 
replied  with  a  peculiar  little  half  smile. 

"Really,"  Eve  exclaimed,  turning  the  mysteri- 
ous thing  over  and  over.  "It  don't  look  half  as 
big  as  it  sounds,  does  it*?" 

Mary  Tilghman  laughed,  then  sobered  quickly 
with  the  tight  feeling  that  had  leaped  to  her 
throat.  She  reached  down  and  took  both  of  Eve's 
hands  in  her  own  and  looked  into  the  wistful 
gray-green  eyes  that  were  raised  suddenly  to  hers. 

"How  old  are  you,  Eve?"  she  asked  in  her  low, 
sympathetic  voice. 

"I  reckon  I'll  be  seventeen  come  the  middle 


162  EVE,  JUNIOR 

of  October,"  Eve  replied  after  a  moment  of 
thought. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  be  able  to  read,  dear?" 
Mary  suggested.  And  her  smile  was  so  sweet  and 
considerate  and  her  tone  so  full  of  quiet  sympa- 
thy that  the  girl  could  feel  no  sense  of  shame,  no 
flush  in  her  cheeks.  Instead,  her  eyes  beamed  with 
delight  and  enthusiasm  as  she  earnestly  replied, 

"Indeed,  yes.  Oh,  I'd  give  anything  just  to 
be  able  to  read  and  know  what  was  in  one  of  them 
there  books.  And,  oh !  there's  such  a  heap  of  'em, 
too.  I  didn't  believe — I  hadn't  any  notion  that 
there  was  so  many,"  she  concluded,  glancing  about 
the  book-lined  room,  her  eyes  aglow  with  sincere 
appreciation. 

"But  these  are  just  a  few,  Eve,  selected  from 
the  many.  The  number  of  books  in  the  world 
must  be  as  countless  as  the  stars." 

"I  wish  I  could  understand  'em  half  as  well," 
was  Eve's  wistful  comment. 

"Malcom,"  said  Mary  feelingly,  when  the  mis- 
sion matter  had  been  adjusted,  "do  you  know 
that  that  poor  child  can't  even  read?  And  she's 
nearly  seventeen." 


MOUNT  VERNON  PLACE         163 

"No !    Is  it  possible !"  he  exclaimed. 

"It  is  a  fact.  I  wish  I  knew  how  long  she  is 
to  be  with  us.  Really,  dear,  we  must  begin  at 
once  to  educate  her.  Imagine  a  girl  of  seventeen 
in  this  age,  Malcom,  being  entirely  illiterate.  I 
hardly  know  how  to  begin,  but  I  suppose  I  must." 

"Well,  Mary  T.,  you  might  try  the  alphabet 
for  a  beginning,"  laughed  the  doctor.  "That's 
the  way  most  of  us  got  our  start." 

Mary  Tilghman  returned  to  her  little  visitor 
and  took  her  to  a  small,  cool,  cozy-looking  bed- 
room that  looked  out  on  Mount  Vernon  Place. 
Eve  stood  for  a  wondering,  wide-eyed  moment  in 
the  doorway  of  this  little  white  enameled  sanctu- 
ary while  her  sweeping  glances  included  its  every 
appointment.  Only  the  rug  and  the  walls  were 
in  color,  a  delightfully  restful  shade  of  pale  blue, 
the  blue  of  the  zenith  of  the  noon-day  sky. 

"This  is  your  room,  Eve,"  Miss  Tilghman  told 
her.  "Arrange  your  things  and  make  yourself 
comfortable  and  at  home." 

Eve  smiled  her  thanks  and  appreciation  and 
went  at  once  to  the  window.  "O-o-oh,"  she  ex- 
claimed, drawing  a  long  breath,  "we're  almost  up 
in  the  sky,  aren't  we?  It's  pretty  down  there, 


164  EVE,  JUNIOR 

but  goodness,  it's  a  long  ways  down.  I  see,  now, 
why  they  h'ist  you  up  here  in  a  cage,  'cause  you'd 
never  get  up  if  they  didn't.  Jiminy,  but  ain't 
that  a  tall  chimley  down  at  the  corner'?" 

"A  chimney?  Where1?"  asked  Mary,  coming 
to  the  window. 

"Why,  that  there,"  Eve  replied,  pointing  with 
her  finger. 

"Gracious,  child,  that  isn't  a  chimney,  that's 
our  Washington  Monument.  How  our  fore- 
fathers would  be  shocked  to  hear  it  called  a  chim- 
ney; and  it  the  first  Washington  memorial  in  the 
country,  too!  Mercy!" 

"And  look!  You  can  see  the  river  from  here, 
and  the  boats — all  the  way  to  the  bay.  I  can 

almost  imagine  I  see "  Eve  stopped  abruptly 

and  turned  a  flushed,  guilty  face  toward  her 
hostess. 

"What  can  you  see,  dear?" 

"Nothin',"  Eve  replied,  resolutely  putting  her 
back  to  the  window. 

"I  must  go  and  see  about  luncheon,  Eve.  Now 
make  yourself  at  home,  dear.  It  is  our  wish  that 
you  should." 


MOUNT  VERNON  PLACE         165 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right,  but  I  must  help  you  with 
the — the — is  it  lunch,  you  mean?' 

"Yes,  but  never  you  mind  about  helping, 
thanks.  The  cook  and  Moya  will  attend  to  that." 

"Jiminy!"  Eve  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "A  cook 
and  a  girl,  too,  just  for  you-all?  What  on  earth 
will  J  do?" 

"You'll  be  our  guest,  dear,"  laughed  Miss 
Tilghman  as  she  went  away. 

Eve  quietly  closed  the  door  and  went  back  to 
the  window.  She  wanted  to  look  away  off  there 
again,  but  she  wanted  to  be  alone  when  she  looked. 
The  day  was  very  clear  and  bright  after  the 
storm  and  the  light  northeast  wind  had  driven 
every  suggestion  of  haze  out  of  the  atmosphere. 
Even  the  distant  Eastern  Shore  was  dimly  visible. 
Yes,  she  had  been  right  at  first,  for  there  it  was 
now — the  long,  low-lying  goose  neck  of  Bodkin 
that  jutted  far  out  on  the  shining  water  where 
the  river  swept  into  the  bay.  And  on  the  very 
end  of  the  point  she  knew  that  the  little  patch 
of  gray,  now  so  blurred  and  indistinct,  was  the 
ruins  of  the  old  lighthouse. 

She  turned  away  as  her  eyes  filled  and  set  about 
unpacking  the  meager  effects  of  her  suit  box. 


166  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Almost  the  first  thing  she  came  upon  was  her 
sketching  pad  and  the  sight  of  it  cheered  her.  She 
laid  it  out  upon  the  bureau  top  with  several  pen- 
cils, but  the  rest  of  the  things  she  placed  in  the 
top  drawer  or  hung  in  the  little  cupboard  opening 
off  the  other  side  of  the  room.  In  a  few  minutes 
she  had  arranged  her  things  and,  taking  her  pad 
and  pencils,  returned  to  the  window.  Here,  how- 
ever, she  resolutely  kept  her  eyes  below  the  level 
of  the  roofs  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street 
while  she  began  a  sketch  of  the  formal  peaked 
square  below.  She  was  thus  engaged  when,  a 
half  hour  later,  the  maid  came  to  her  door  to  an- 
nounce that  luncheon  was  ready.  Thinking  that 
the  girl  was  about  to  enter,  Eve  hastily  tore  off 
the  sheet  she  was  working  on  and  dropped  it  out 
the  open  window  because  she  was  dissatisfied  with 
the  sketch  and  did  not  want  any  one  to  see  it. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

EVE,    JUNIOR 

ENTERING  the  dining  room  with  a  tremulous 
feeling  of  self  consciousness,  Eve  took  the  seat  to 
which  Mary  Tilghman  welcomed  her.  Never  be- 
fore had  she  sat  at  a  table  so  brilliant  with  silver 
and  sparkling  glassware,  and  so  white  with  china 
and  embroidered  linen.  The  whole  effect,  while 
pleasing  to  her  senses,  confused  her.  And  the  sev- 
eral spoons  and  knives  and  the  extra  salad  fork 
were  disconcerting  mysteries  that  she  dared  not 
even  contemplate.  Heretofore  she  had  consid- 
ered one  of  each  article  sufficient  for  the  purpose 
of  a  meal,  however  simple  or  sumptuous  the  meal 
might  be.  The  saying  of  grace,  too,  was  a  formal- 
ity new  to  her.  And  as  the  minister  inclined  his 
head  and  began  to  speak  she  marveled  not  a  little 
at  this  strange  ceremony. 

What  a  peculiar,  complicated  world  she  had 
come  into,  out  of  the  elemental  simplicity  of  yes- 
167 


168  EVE,  JUNIOR 

terday !  Vaguely  she  wondered  if  she  would  ever 
learn  its  intricate  complexities  and  understand  the 
formal  rules  by  which  its  inhabitants  seemed  to 
move  and  have  their  being. 

She  noticed  too,  with  a  sense  of  alarm,  that  the 
minister  and  his  sister  had  both  made  changes  in 
their  costumes,  while  she  still  wore  her  denim 
gown.  How  ridiculous  she  must  appear  to  them, 
she  felt,  as  the  hot  blood  mounted  in  her  cheeks ! 
Her  hands  trembled  so  that  she  set  her  knife  and 
fork  down  and  pressed  them  together  in  her  lap 
as  if  to  steady  them.  She  was  conscious  of  being 
much  too  warm  and  knew  that,  despite  the  cool- 
ness of  the  day,  little  beads  of  moisture  were 
gathering  on  her  forehead. 

"Why,  howd'y,  friends,"  boomed  a  big,  good- 
natured  masculine  voice  in  the  doorway  at  Eve's 
back,  as  she  sat  at  the  Tilghmans'  luncheon.  "My 
good  luck,  as  usual.  Just  in  time  to  join  you,  and 
I'm  as  hungry  as  the  proverbial  wolf." 

As  the  doctor  and  his  sister  had  momentarily 
arisen  to  greet  their  guest,  Eve,  following  their 
example,  stood  up,  too,  looking  with  a  curious  in- 
terest at  the  handsome,  middle-aged  visitor.  He 
was  a  short  man  and  somewhat  stout,  with  close- 


EVE,  JUNIOR  169 

cropped  black  hair,  touched  here  and  there  with 
gray,  bristling  thickly  over  a  well-shaped  head. 
As  Eve  regarded  him,  a  twinkle  of  humor  seemed 
to  light  the  shadows  of  his  deep  brown  eyes. 

"Eve,"  said  Miss  Tilghman,  "this  is  Mr.  Addi- 
son  Piel,  one  of  our  most  famous  artists,  of  whom 
we  are  justly  proud." 

"Pardon  me,  Lady  T.,  God  save  the  mark!" 
Mr.  Piel  deprecated,  bowing  graciously  over  the 
hand  of  his  new  acquaintance.  "Don't  listen  to 
her,  Eve,  I  pray  thee — 't  would  seem  a  sacrilege  to 
say  'Miss  Eve,'  not  knowing  the  rest  of  it.  What 
might  your  full  name  be,  since  one  so  young  can 
scarce  be  'Eve'  herself?" 

"Just  Eve;  that's  all,"  the  girl  replied  with 
quiet  dignity. 

"Ah;  then  you  are  the  one,  the  only,  the  original 
Eve,  the  mother  of  all  creation*?"  Piel  suggested 
with  a  smile. 

"No;  I  am  not  anybody's  mother,"  said  Eve, 
flushing  a  little. 

"Ah,  yes,  I  see;  not  the  original,  but  a  daugh- 
ter; a  junior  Eve  of  the  Eve,  senior.  So!  It  is 
a  gracious  privilege  to  know  you,  Eve,  junior." 

Eve  smiled  and  resumed  her  seat. 


170  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"My  mother's  name  was  Alice,"  she  told  him 
quietly;  "I  didn't  s'pose  there  was  so  many  Eves." 

The  artist  laughed. 

"Every  mother's  daughter  of  'em  is  an  Eve, 
my  dear.  It's  born  in  the  flesh  and  bred  in  the 
bone.  And  a  million  years  cannot  atone — for 
passing  the  apples.  How's  that  for  impromptu 
stuff,  Reverend  Doctor?' 

"Well,  to  say  the  least,  your  brevity  indicates 
your  good  judgment,"  the  minister  replied  with  a 
tolerant,  amiable  smile. 

"Oh,  not  at  all;  merely  that  my  muse  vamoosed 
in  the  opening  stanza.  Which  being  the  case,  I 
shall  now  retire  upon  my  laurels  to  the  festive 
board.  Paints  and  pigments,  tennis  and  tomfool- 
ery were  invented  for  the  satiety  of  the  esthetic 
man,  but  a  square  meal  touches  the  heart,"  quoth 
Piel,  occupying  his  place  opposite  Eve  with  evi- 
dent satisfaction. 

"Had  a  funny  little  experience  coming  up  the 
street  just  now,"  he  resumed  as  he  settled  him- 
self in  his  chair.  "I  was  moseying  along  with  my 
head  down  wondering  where  in  Christendom  I 
was  going  to  get  a  model  for  my  new  picture — 
'The  Birth  of  Spring,'  I  shall  call  it,  depicting  a 


EVE,  JUNIOR  171 

young  girl  clad  in  all  the  festive  raiment  of  her 
virgin  beauty  arising,  with  the  first  snow-white 
anemonies,  from  the  bosom  of  old  Mother  Earth 
in  the  depths  of  a  shadowy  forest — when,  as  I 
was  saying,  a  sheet  of  paper  came  sailing  down 
a  sunbeam  from  aloft,  somewhere,  and  struck 
me  in  the  face.  I  grabbed  it  and  shuddered  de- 
spite the  genial  warmth  that  old  Sol  was  handing 
down  with  promiscuous  impartiality,  for  lo!  and 
behold !  it  was  art  flung  in  the  face  of  art,  a  rapid, 
impressionistic  pencil  sketch  of  our  dear  old  square 
made  by  some  one  from  a  vantage  point  above 
the  street  level.  And  whoever  made  it  is  not 
merely  an  artist  in  the  common  and  accepted 
terms  as  laid  down  and  expounded  by  the  late 
lamented  N.  Webster,  LL.D.,  but  an  artist  in  tem- 
perament and  spirit,  as  well.  He  has  caught  the 
psychology  of  art,  the  heart  and  soul  of  the  thing, 
as  the  eye  of  the  camera  catches  the  scene  that  is 
flashed  before  it." 

He  reached  in  a  pocket  of  his  coat  and  drew 
forth  the  folded  sketch  which  Eve  had  tossed  from 
the  window.  Her  eyes  grew  big  with  alarm  while 
little  sparks  of  excitement  danced  in  them.  A 


172  EVE,  JUNIOR 

flame  of  confusion  made  her  cheeks  glow  dully 
red. 

"Here  it  is,"  Piel  continued,  as  he  unfolded 
the  drawing.  "I  want  you  all  to  look  at  it  and 
tell  me  if  I  am  mistaken.  It  is  such  a  sketch 
as  Whistler  would  have  made,  strong  in  its  salient 
features  and  subdued  in  the  mass  of  detail.  Close 
your  eyes  a  moment,  Doctor,  then  open  them  be- 
fore it  for  the  briefest  instant  and  tell  me  what 
you  see,"  said  the  artist,  about  to  hold  the  draw- 
ing up  before  the  minister. 

Eve's  eyes  narrowed.  Like  a  cat,  she  crouched 
perceptibly,  calculating  the  distance  between  her 
and  the  offending  sketch.  Then  with  a  movement 
as  quick  as  the  spring  of  a  panther,  she  half  leaned, 
half  reached  across  the  round- topped  table  and 
snatched  the  paper  from  Piel's  unsuspecting  hand. 
Before  any  one  could  intercept  her  she  had  torn 
the  crumpled  sketch  to  bits  and  dropped  the  pieces 
into  her  empty  coffee  cup. 

"Eve !"  exclaimed  Miss  Tilghman,  horrified  by 
the  unmitigated  rudeness  of  the  girl's  act. 

"I  don't  care,"  Eve  protested  on  the  verge  of 
tears.  "It  was  an  onery,  good-for-nothin'-lookin' 


EVE,  JUNIOR  173 

drawin',  anyway,  and  I  didn't  want  that  anybody 
should  see  it." 

The  others  stared  at  her  for  an  incomprehen- 
sive  moment  and  she  added  with  sincere  regret, 
"I'm  sorry  I  had  to  be  so  nasty  mean  about  it, 
though." 

"Did  you  make  that  sketch1?"  asked  the  won- 
dering Piel,  the  first  to  recover  himself. 

"Of  course !"  Eve  replied  with  the  faintest  sug- 
gestion of  petulance  in  her  tone.  "I  wouldn't 
a-taken  what  wasn't  mine  that  way." 

"Where  did  you  study?"  asked  the  artist. 

"Study !"  Eve  echoed  dubiously.  "I  reckon  I 
never  did.  I've  always  been  a-drawin'  things, 
ever  since  I  can  remember." 

"It's  a  wonderful  talent  you  have,"  said  Piel 
with  something  of  reverence  in  his  tone.  "All 
the  study  in  the  world  with  the  masters  at  your 
elbow  couldn't  give  you  that.  I'm  sorry  you  de- 
stroyed the  sketch.  I  meant  to  keep  it.  There 
was  something  inspiring  in  every  stroke  of  the 
pencil." 

"I'll  make  you  another  one  after  lunch,"  Eve 
hastened  to  offer  in  contrition — "a  better  one.  I 


174  EVE,  JUNIOR 

was  ashamed  of  that  one.  That's  why  I  tore 
it  up." 

"Heavens !  Eve,  let's  have  at  what's  left  with 
might  and  main,  if  that's  the  case,"  the  artist 
laughed,  making  a  feint  as  if  to  pounce  forthwith 
upon  his  plate. 

"What  shall  I  draw4?"  Eve  asked  when  the  or- 
deal of  luncheon  was  over  and  they  had  retired 
to  the  library. 

The  doctor  and  his  sister  suggested  that  she  re- 
peat the  sketch  of  the  square.  But  Piel  objected. 

"I've  seen  that  and  I  know  that  you  can  draw. 
What  I  want  now  is  something  with  the  touch  of 
the  close,  personal  element  in  it — your  conception 
of  something  that  you  have  a  decided  and  unmis- 
takable feeling  for.  Do  you  see  what  I  mean*?" 

"Do  you  mean  something  that  makes  me  think 
of  something  else?  Something  that  I  can  feel, 
sort  of,  even  better  than  I  can  see?" 

Piel  nodded.  It  was  not  exactly  what  he  meant 
— it  was  more.  He  would  let  her  develop  the 
idea  in  her  own  way. 

Eve  had  been  furtively  admiring  Miss  Tilgh- 
man  for  some  time.  She  studied  her  now  with  a 
new,  direct  interest  as  she  sat  with  her  clear,  regu- 


EVE,  JUNIOR  175 

lar  profile  in  silhouette  against  the  brilliant,  sun- 
lit background  of  the  open-window  group.  A 
book  lay  closed  and  idle  in  her  lap,  as  if  she  had 
been  reading.  Her  attitude  betokened  thought. 
All  unconscious  of  the  fact,  she  made  a  very  pleas- 
ing and  artistic  picture.  Eve  saw  this  at  once, 
but  seeing,  saw  more  and  her  eyes  kindled  and 
her  cheeks  glowed  with  the  desire  to  portray  what 
she  saw.  Her  fingers  fairly  burned  for  the  feel 
of  the  pencil  and  the  touch  of  the  pad  under  her 
hand.  It  was  as  natural  for  her  to  draw  at  such 
moments  as  to  breathe. 

"You  won't  mind  if  I  make  a  leetle  sketch  of 
you,  ma'am,  just  as  you  set  there,  will  you4?"  she 
asked  Miss  Tilghman. 

"No,  not  at  all,"  laughed  Mary,  "but  why 
me?' 

"I'll  tell  you  when  I  get  done,"  Eve  replied 
abstractedly,  already  engaged  with  the  rapid 
strokes  of  her  pencil. 

Piel  pulled  a  chair  up  beside  her  and  sat  down, 
watching  intently  the  progress  of  the  sketch. 
Never  once,  however,  during  the  hour  its  making 
consumed  did  he  venture  a  comment  or  suggestion. 
The  fact  was,  that  Piel,  himself,  was  absorbed  in 


176  EVE,  JUNIOR 

the  elemental  process  of  a  technique  that  knew  no 
school,  that  conformed  to  no  hard  and  fast  rules 
and  formulae. 

Eve,  as  an  artist,  worked  with  unusual  con- 
centration toward  a  single  objective.  Were  there 
a  thousand  details  in  her  picture  and  no  self-evi- 
dent theme  for  the  background  to  sustain,  a  single 
glance  would  yet  suffice  to  indicate  the  subject 
of  the  sketch ;  for  it  was  something  that  her  pencil 
unfailingly  traced  into  her  work  with  a  fidelity 
of  purpose  that  could  not  be  mistaken.  And  so 
it  was  with  the  result  that  she  now  handed  Piel. 

When  the  minister  and  his  sister  came  around 
in  back  of  them  to  see  the  finished  sketch  they 
were  amazed  with  what  they  saw.  First  of  all, 
it  was  a  portrait,  for  Mary  Tilghman  was  the 
subject.  But  there  was  something  more  than  that, 
a  deeper,  half-hidden  significance  that  one  began 
to  feel  after  a  little  study  of  the  picture.  It  was 
not  merely  Mary  Tilghman,  but  Eve's  conception 
of  her.  It  was  the  idea  that  Mary  Tilghman  con- 
noted in  the  back  of  Eve's  mind. 

"I  wanted  to  draw  you,"  she  explained  pres- 
ently, as  she  turned  to  Miss  Tilghman,  "because 
you  looked  like  I've  always  imagined  my  mother 


EVE,  JUNIOR  177 

might  have  looked.  She  died  when  I  was  just  a 
baby  and  I  don't  recollect  her  a-tall,  but  I've  al- 
ways had  my  own  idea  of  what  she  'peared  like, 
and  when  I  seen  you  a-settin'  there,  you  just  kind 
o'  seemed  to  fit  in  about  right." 

And  that  was  the  answer  to  the  unspoken  ques- 
tion in  their  eyes.  It  was  the  soul  of  the  picture. 

Mary  Tilghman  bent  down  and  impulsively 
kissed  her  while  little  veils  of  mist  gathered  be- 
fore her  eyes.  The  doctor  took  the  sketch  and 
studied  it  intently.  "I  suppose  you'll  want  this 
yourself,  Eve,"  he  half  suggested. 

"Not  if  you  do,"  she  replied  generously,  noting 
the  unspoken  desire  in  his  tone;  "I've  still  got 
my  picture,  anyway.  I  can  draw  a  thousand 
others  from  it." 

"But,  Eve,"  protested  Piel,  "you  drew  this  one 
for  me,  didn't  you*?" 

"Well,  you  saw  me  draw  it,  and  I  reckon  that 
was  all  you  wanted,  anyway,"  laughed  Eve.  "Be- 
sides, it's  his  sister,  you  know,  so  if  the  parson 
wants  it,  why  he'd  ought  to  have  it." 

"So  then,  you  think  that  the  parson  is  the  only 
one  that  is  interested  in  his  sister,  eh*?"  Piel  sug- 
gested mischievously. 


178  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Doctor  Tilghman  laughed,  but  Mary  colored 
and  looked  uncomfortable  when  the  artist's  eyes 
met  hers. 

"Are  you?"  Eve  asked  with  innocent  direct- 
ness. 

"I  am,"  Piel  replied  with  a  blunt  fervor  that 
was  unusual  in  him. 

"Now  see  here,  you  children,"  Mary  Tilghman 
commanded  with  an  assumption  of  senior  superior- 
ity, "dispose  of  the  picture  without  further  per- 
sonalities. If  you  can't  agree  upon  it  I  shall  claim 
it  myself.  I  think  I  shall  do  so,  anyway,  for 
since  it  is  my  picture,  who  has  a  better  right  to 
it1?"  To  which  the  others  unanimously  agreed, 
and  Miss  Tilghman  became  the  possessor  of  the 
sketch. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  you  didn't  sign  it,  Eve,"  said 
Piel,  noting  the  absence  of  her  signature. 

Eve  colored  confusedly  and  looked  from  one 
to  another,  but  half  understanding  what  he  meant. 
"Never  mind,"  Mary  interjected  to  save  the  girl 
from  further  mortification,  "you  can  sign  it  later. 
I'm  going  to  see  if  I  have  a  frame  that  will  do 
for  it." 

"Eve,"   said  the  doctor  when  the  artist  had 


EVE,  JUNIOR  179 

gone,  "Mr.  Piel  is  much  interested  in  your  talent 
for  drawing.  He  says  that  your  ability  in  that 
respect  is  very  marked  and  unusual  and  he  wants 
to  know  if  you  will  take  an  hour  or  two  each  day 
at  his  studio.  I  would  advise  you  to  accept  his 
offer  and  begin  at  once.  He  is  considered  a  great 
artist  and  he  will  prove  an  able  teacher." 

Eve's  eyes  widened  with  delight,  then  clouded 
in  afterthought. 

"I'd  just  love  to,  but  I — I  can't.  You  see,  I 
haven't  got  any  money,  and  I  reckon  it  must  cost 
an  awful  lot,"  she  explained. 

"It  will  not  cost  a  penny,  Eve,"  the  minister 
told  her,  laughing  away  her  fear.  "Piel  says  that 
you  will  be  a  worthy  protegee.  He  is  very  anx- 
ious to  have  you  start  to-morrow,  if  possible. 
Mary  can  arrange  your  lessons  here  so  that  they 
will  not  conflict  with  your  studio  work  and  a  little 
later  on  we  must  see  about  a  school,  if  you  decide 
to  stay  in  the  city." 

Eve  looked  up  at  Dr.  Tilghman,  bewildered 
by  the  swift  march  of  events  and  the  bountiful 
kindness  that  was  being  heaped  upon  her.  Tears 
leaped  to  her  eyes  and  her  voice  trembled  as  she 
spoke. 


180  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"You're  all  so  good  to  me,"  she  said  brokenly, 
"and  I  wonder  why4?  'Pears  like  to  me  I  ain't 
ever  done  anything  to  deserve  all  this  here  kind- 
ness you're  a-doin'  for  me,  and  I  don't  reckon  I'll 
ever  be  able  to  pay  you  back;  but,  anyhow,  you 
won't  be  sorry  for  it. 

"But  you've  just  got  to  let  me  do  somethin' 
for  you-all — to  work  around  your  place  here, 
maybe.  I  heered  you  a-sayin',  ma'am,  that  your 
maid  was  a-leavin'.  Well,  I'm  used  to  doin' 
housework  and  I'd  just  be  too  glad  if  you'd  let 
me  'tend  to  what  she's  a-doin'  when  she's  gone, 
'cause  I  couldn't  think  o'  stayin'  on  here  just 
a-loafin',  like,  when  there's  a-plenty  I  can  do.  And 
Mr.  Piel,  I  can  do  something  for  him,  too,  maybe. 
I  heered  him  a-sayin'  he'd  had  such  a  hard  time  to 
get  somebody  to — to  draw  from  and  maybe  I'd  do 
for  that — or  don't  you  reckon  I  would*?"  she  asked 
as  the  minister  began  to  smile. 

"Don't  ask  him,  Eve — I'm  afraid  you  would," 
was  his  ambiguous  reply. 

"Then  I  certainly  will,"  said  Eve  decisively. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

VALUE    FOR    VALUE 

EVE'S  eyes  widened  with  joy  and  amazement  as 
she  entered  Piel's  long,  sunlit,  picture-hung 
studio ;  for  it  was,  indeed,  an  art  gallery,  not  alone 
festooned  with  what  Piel  was  pleased  to  call 
"home-baked,"  as  he  always  termed  his  own  pro- 
ductions, but  boasting  a  Millet,  a  Corot  and  a  tiny 
Rembrandt  of  exquisite  coloring.  The  works  of 
numerous  modern  artists,  too,  were  well  repre- 
sented; and  at  one  end  of  the  room  was  a  life- 
sized  portrait  of  the  elder  Piel  by  Sargent. 

Eve  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  turned 
slowly  in  a  circle  while  her  dancing  eyes  included 
every  inch  of  the  four  walls.  Her  feet  danced, 
too,  as  she  turned.  She  fairly  brimmed  over  with 
happiness  and  wonderment.  She  clapped  her 
hands  in  ecstasy  and  looked  at  Piel  with  open,  al- 
most worshipful  admiration. 

181 


182  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"It's — it's  like  a  picture  book,"  she  cried 
breathlessly.  "Did  you  make  all  of  'em?" 

"Oh,  no!"  the  artist  replied,  laughing.  "Only 
the  poorest  of  the  lot,  Eve !" 

"There  ain't  any  poorest  ones,"  she  quickly  de- 
nied. "They're  all  fine,  big,  wonderful — like 
things  I've  dreamed  about." 

"Some  of  them  are,"  he  agreed,  with  a  certain 
reverence.  Then  he  added  regretfully,  "You'll 
get  to  know  the  difference,  by  and  by." 

"Look  a-here,  Mr.  Piel,"  she  began,  in  her  usual 
abrupt,  straightforward  manner,  "you-all  people 
are  a-doin'  a  lot  o'  things  for  me  and  I  can't  see 
where  I  stand  to  ever  get  quits  with  you.  It  just 
looks  like  to  me  I'm  a-takin'  everything  and  a-giv- 
in'  nothin'  back.  'Course  I  haven't  got  anything 
much  to  give — only  just  myself,  that's  all.  But 
there's  things  I'm  a-goin'  to  do  for  you-all  or  else 
I'm  a-goin'  to  stop  takin'.  Now  for  these  here  les- 
sons— how  about  that  'Spring'  picture — have  you 
got  a — a  what's-you-call-it,  yet?" 

"You  mean  a  model?"  asked  Piel,  somewhat 
surprised.  "No,  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  one. 
You  see,  Eve,  a  work  like  that  requires  something 
more  than  the  average  model  is  able  to  give — 


VALUE  FOR  VALUE  183 

inspiration.  She  must  typify  the  very  meaning  of 
Spring  in  the  painter's  mind.  She  must  be  young 
and  girlish  and  sweet  and  genuinely  innocent  and 
clean  of  spirit.  She  must  have  a  heart  and  a  soul 
that  are  the  very  essence  of  the  Springtime  of  her 
young  womanhood.  She  must  be  wholesome  and 
good." 

Piel  was  growing  reverently  enthusiastic.  Al- 
ready, with  the  model  of  his  dreams,  he  could  see 
the  picture  growing,  expanding,  throbbing  with 
life  and  vitality.  Conceived  of  the  genius  of  in- 
spiration, it  would  inspire  others. 

Eve  turned  away  with  quick  resolution  and 
faced  the  artist. 

"I'm  not  half  those  things  you  say  you  need  for 
your  model,"  she  said  quietly,  "but  maybe  I  would 
do.  Will  you  try  me?' 

Piel,  startled  from  his  reverie,  turned  upon  her 
sharply. 

"You !"  he  exclaimed  with  a  frown. 

"In  pay  for  the  lessons,  I  mean,"  Eve  faltered. 

Piel's  face  flushed.  Of  a  sudden  he  felt  very 
uncomfortable.  How  could  he  tell  her  what  the 
role  would  require? 

"You  don't  mean  that,"  he  tried  to  dissuade 


184  EVE,  JUNIOR 

her,  as  one  puts  aside  the  impossible  request  of 
an  eager  child. 

"I  do  mean  it,"  Eve  asserted  with  emphasis; 
then  her  face  clouded  in  afterthought.  "Won't 
I  do?"  she  asked  fearfully. 

The  artist's  eyes  devoured  her  for  a  long  mo- 
ment. The  childlike  beauty  of  her  pure,  clean- 
cut  features,  the  gently  swelling  curves  of  her  in- 
nocent young  bosom,  the  long,  sweeping  lines  of 
grace  in  waist  and  hip  and  thigh ;  her  slim,  round 
ankles  and  capable  feet,  neither  large  nor  small, 
fitting  foundations  for  a  perfect  body;  but,  most 
of  all,  that  patrician  air  of  wholesomeness  that 
pervaded  her  from  head  to  foot  and  attracted  like 
a  magnet.  "Do !"  cried  Piel,  intoxicated  with  the 
contemplation  of  her  innate  loveliness.  "Yes, 
you'd  do — for  a  Raphael  or  an  Angelo.  I  would 
not  dare  to  desecrate  your  beauty  with  my  poor 
brush." 

"Then  if  I  will  do,  I'm  your  model,"  said  Eve 
with  decision.  "It's  the  only  way  I  can  ever 
pay " 

"It  cannot  be.  Such  a  thing  would  be  the  basest 
sacrilege.  Your  lessons  will  be  a  pleasure  and 
my  time  is  my  own,  so  we'll  say  no  more  about 


VALUE  FOR  VALUE  185 

it.  Some  day  when  you  have  become  a  great  art- 
ist, if  you  still  feel  indebted  to  me,  it  will  be 
time  enough  to  pay.  Meanwhile,  forget  it." 

But  Eve  would  not  so  easily  be  put  aside  in  her 
purpose. 

"Is  there  some  reason  you  haven't  told  me  about 
that  keeps  me  from  bein'  your  model?"  she  per- 
sisted. 

"Yes." 

"What?" 

"The  way  you  would  have  to  be  clothed— or, 
rather,  unclothed,"  Piel  hesitated. 

"How?" 

"Like  that,"  replied  the  artist,  pointing  to  a 
painting  of  the  kneeling  Magdalene. 

Eve  studied  the  picture  intently  while  a  look 
of  horror  crept  into  her  eyes.  Her  cheeks  blazed 
scarlet ;  her  ears  reddened  painfully  and  her  throat 
swelled  until  she  felt  that  it  would  burst.  Her 
knees  trembled  and  grew  weak  beneath  her.  She 
sat  down  abruptly  to  keep  from  reeling,  her  eyes 
still  held  by  the  vision  of  the  naked  Magdalene. 
Try  as  she  might  she  could  not  force  herself  to 
look  at  Piel;  and  the  artist,  feeling  all  that  she 
felt,  turned  away  with  pity  in  his  heart. 


i86  EVE,  JUNIOR 

The  long  silence  grew  irksome.  Eve  sat  speech- 
less and  unmoved.  Piel  threw  open  a  window  and 
raised  a  blind.  Then,  at  last,  having  recovered 
himself  somewhat,  he  went  over  to  Eve  and  stood 
beside  her  and  laid  a  fatherly  hand  in  reverence 
upon  her  copperish,  gold-crowned  head. 

"Eve,  my  child,"  he  said  tenderly,  "can't  you 
see  now  that  it  cannot  be1?" 

For  a  moment  she  did  not  speak;  and  when  she 
did,  her  eyes  were  still  riveted  on  the  painting  of 
the  Magdalene. 

"Did  some — some  other  girl — kneel  like  that*?" 
she  wavered  faintly. 

"Yes.  A  picture  that  portrays  such  life  and 
emotion  as  that  must  have  been  painted  from  a 
living  model,"  said  Piel. 

"Was  she  a — a  good  girl?"  she  asked  him  more 
faintly  still. 

"There  is  no  reason  why  she  should  not  have 
been,"  Piel  declared  quickly.  "Just  because  she 
posed  as  the  subject  required,  it  does  not  of  neces- 
sity follow  that  there  was  anything  wrong  with 
her  morals.  In  the  eyes  of  an  artist  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  nakedness.  Such  a  picture  is  an  alle- 
gory, a  great  moral  made  graphic  that  the  eye 


VALUE  FOR  VALUE  187 

may  see  it  and  the  mind  may  grasp  its  meaning; 
and  the  model  who  posed  for  it  rendered  a  great 
service  to  art  and  to  humanity,  for  the  lesson  is 
striking." 

"I  reckon  I  see  now  what  this  here  picture 
means,"  said  Eve  slowly,  still  looking  at  the  Mag- 
dalene. "At  first  it  was  only  a — a  woman  with- 
out any  clothes  on  and  it  made  me  feel  kind  o' 
ashamed  to  look  at  her;  but  now  I  see  that  it 
ain't  the  woman,  it's  her  soul  stripped  bare  and 
naked  so  that  all  the  world  can  see  her  badness 
and  she's  ashamed  and  sorry  and  she's  askin'  God 
to  give  her  a  better  body  for  her  naked  soul  to 
live  in.  Ain't  that  it?" 

"Yes.  And  that  is  what  was  in  the  mind  of 
the  artist  when  he  painted  from  his  living  model, 
and  the  model,  to  have  been  an  inspiration  to  him, 
should  have  had  the  same  thoughts  in  her  mind 
when  she  posed  for  him." 

"This  posin',  then,  has  a  whole  lot  to  do  with 
what  the  picture  is  a-goin'  to  look  like  when  it's 
done,  don't  it?  If  this  girl  had  those  kind  o' 
thoughts,  she  mustn't  have  been  bad,  anyway,  do 
you  reckon  so?" 

""Except  for  the  unfortunate  influences  that  an 


i88  EVE,  JUNIOR 

artist's  model  is  sometimes  subjected  to,  there  is 
no  more  reason  to  suppose  that  a  girl  engaged  in 
that  work  is  less  likely  to  be  good  and  clean  and 
womanly  than  if  she  were  teaching  a  country 
school,"  Piel  declared  positively. 

Eve  thoughtfully  considered  this. 

"Mr.  Piel,"  she  said,  after  a  moment  of  silence, 
"if  I  was  one  o'  these  here  models  and  you  knew 
me  and  knew  I  would  sort  of — of  do  for  your 
picture  and  I  come  in  here  and  offered  to  pose, 
would  you 'think  any  less  o'  me  or  kind  o'  look 
down  on  me  or  anything  like  that*?" 

"Certainly  not!"  came  the  prompt  reply.  "I'd 
honor  you  for  being  woman  enough  to  measure 
up  to  my  exacting  ideas  of  what  the  model  for 
this  picture  must  be." 

"And  how  about  other  folks — people  who  saw 
your  picture  when  it  was  done — what  would  they 
think?" 

Piel  pondered  a  moment. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied  thoughtfully,  "ex- 
cept that  if  they  were  right-thinking  people  they 
would  think  as  I  think  and  as  every  true  artist 
would  think." 


VALUE  FOR  VALUE  189 

"Then  I'll  do  it!"  Eve  exclaimed  decisively 
without  an  instant's  hesitation. 

"Do  what?" 

"Pose  for  your  'Spring'  picture  in  pay  for  my 
lessons." 

"The  sacrifice  is  too  great.  It  is  unwarranted. 
It  is  a  sacrilege,  I  tell  you.  It  cannot  be,  Eve.  I 
will  not  permit  you,"  Piel  objected  earnestly. 

"Then  you  shan't  teach  me,  either,"  Eve  re- 
torted, rising  as  if  to  go. 

"Be  reasonable,  Eve !"  Piel  implored;  "your  les- 
sons do  not  cost  me  anything,  and  they  are  going 
to  be  a  source  of  great  pleasure  to  me.  I  shall  de- 
rive as  much  benefit  as  you  will.  Besides,  even  if 
I  consented  to  your  posing  what  would  the  doc- 
tor and  Miss  Tilghman  say*?" 

"I  have  already  told  them  that  I  was  a-goin' 
to  ask  you  if  I'd  do,"  Eve  smiled. 

"And  what  did  they  say?"  was  Piel's  eager  re- 
joinder. 

"The  doctor  said  he  was  afraid  I  would." 

"Would  what?"  more  eagerly. 

"Would  do,"  Eve  replied. 

"Phew !"  Piel  whistled  and  began  to  pace  rap- 
idly up  and  down  with  his  eyes  on  the  floor. 


190  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Eve  watched  him  for  an  interval  and  became 
impatient. 

"Well,"  she  suggested,  "what  about  it?' 

Piel  stopped  and  stared  at  her. 

"What  about  it,"  he  exclaimed,  incredulous 
that  the  girl  could  be  so  calm  and  earnest.  He 
studied  her  steady  gray-green  eyes  that  made  him 
think  of  a  certain  priceless  jade  ring  that  he  meant 
to  give  Mary  Tilghman,  that  is  (he  corrected  the 
thought),  if  she  would  accept  it,  and  suddenly 
his  face  softened.  "I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do," 
he  added,  smiling,  "we'll  put  it  up  to  Miss  Mary 
and  the  doctor,  and  if  they  agree — well,  it's  a 
go.  But  if  they  don't,"  he  warned,  "if  they  just 
don't,  you're  to  take  the  lessons,  anyway,  and 
pay  when  you  can." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Eve,  "if  that's  fair  for  you, 
it's  sure  enough  fair  for  me." 

And  so  it  came  about  that  Eve  was  to  give 
Piel  an  hour  each  day  until  the  painting  was  fin- 
ished. 

Piel  had  said  that  in  the  eyes  of  art  there  was 
no  such  thing  as  nakedness,  that  the  nude  figure 
was  but  an  allegory  and  her  own  artistic  instincts 


VALUE  FOR  VALUE  191 

had  been  quick  to  grasp  his  meaning;  so  that  now, 
on  the  threshold  of  an  adventure  that  she  dreaded 
more  than  death,  Eve's  task  never  for  the  briefest 
instant  occurred  to  her  again  as  unwomanly  or  im- 
modest. 

And  so  it  was  that  still  in  this  frame  of  mind, 
she  at  last  made  her  faltering  way  from  the  little 
dressing  room  to  the  raised  dais  in  the  studio 
where  with  trembling  fingers  she  unclasped  the 
fastening  of  the  pale  silk  gown  that  covered  her. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE    GIRL    IN    THE    SHADOW 

TIME  passed  quickly  now  for  Eve.  Her  days 
were  full  of  strange  new  things  in  this  new  world 
into  which  she  had  been  thrust  so  unprepared. 
Mary  Tilghman  spent  two  or  three  hours  of  each 
morning  teaching  her  how  to  read  and  write,  and, 
at  the  studio  where  her  afternoons  were  largely 
occupied,  she  proved  an  apt  pupil. 

Her  dreaded  hour  at  the  studio,  too,  became 
less  irksome  as  the  days  went  by,  for  Piel  was 
ever  preoccupied  and  impersonal,  seeming  to  see 
her  only  through  the  eyes  of  the  artist. 

And  always  when  the  period  was  over — and 
Piel  religiously  refrained  from  keeping  her  longer 
than  the  prescribed  hour — the  artist  became  again 
her  friend  and  teacher,  kindly  considerate,  unob- 
strusively  professional.  And  under  his  quietly 
firm  guidance  and  instruction,  Eve  began  to  show 
even  greater  promise  than  Piel  had  anticipated 
of  his  pupil. 

192 


THE  GIRL  IN  THE  SHADOW     193 

At  her  new  home,  too,  she  was  much  occu- 
pied, for  with  the  leaving  of  the  maid,  Moya, 
Eve  insisted  upon  assuming  her  duties  and  did  so 
in  spite  of  all  objection  to  the  contrary.  Soon 
afterward,  to  show  how  little  of  her  time  this 
work  required,  she  laughingly  remarked  that  Moya 
had  been  a  foolish  girl  to  leave  a  job  so  easy  for 
the  more  rigorous  duties  of  married  life.  Her 
evenings,  too,  were  spent  in  profitable  ways,  being 
given  to  reading  or  to  the  practise  of  writing  or 
to  mission  work  and  prayer  meeting,  for  Dr. 
Tilghman  had  several  additional  charges  which 
he  looked  after,  the  most  important  one  being 
"The  Anchorage,"  at  the  foot  of  Broadway,  a  sea- 
man's mission  and  home. 

And  here  Eve  often  accompanied  him  to  help 
carry  the  tracts  and  other  literature  which  he  dis- 
tributed among  his  flock.  At  times  Mary  went 
in  Eve's  place  while  Eve  remained  at  home  to 
wrestle  with  some  particularly  unconquerable 
problem  which  the  day's  lesson  had  brought  her. 
Usually,  however,  Mary  was  expected  in  attend- 
ance at  a  literary  club  which  she  had  organized 
among  the  women  of  her  brother's  church. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  nights  when  Eve  had 


194  EVE,  JUNIOR 

stayed  at  home  that  Skip  Carroll,  up  from  Bod- 
kin with  a  live-box  full  of  fish,  wandered  into 
"The  Anchorage"  and  listened  attentively  to  the 
service  from  the  vantage  point  of  a  seat  which  he 
unobtrusively  occupied  on  the  last  bench.  Later, 
as  Skip  filed  out  with  the  others  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  benediction,  a  girl,  hatless  and  clad  in 
a  long,  light  coat,  stared  at  him  for  an  interval 
while  her  rather  pretty,  pale  face  grew  paler  and 
her  eyes  widened  with  recognition.  She  was 
standing  under  the  arc  light  at  the  corner,  but 
at  sight  of  him  she  withdrew  into  the  shadow  of 
a  nearby  awning. 

After  that,  night  after  night,  when  there  was 
meeting  at  "The  Anchorage,"  the  girl  in  the  long, 
light  coat  would  stand  in  the  shadow  of  the  awn- 
ing and  wait  until  the  service  had  begun,  as  if 
watching  for  some  one  to  enter.  And  then  she 
would  cross  Thames  Street  to  the  concrete  bulk- 
head where  she  would  pace  back  and  forth,  star- 
ing out  over  the  dark  harbor  until  the  doxology 
was  sung;  when  she  would  return  to  her  post  at 
the  awning.  Once  when  Eve  and  the  minister 
passed  quite  close  to  her  on  their  way  to  the  car 
the  young  woman  scrutinized  Eve  as  if  vainly  en- 


THE  GIRL  IN  THE  SHADOW     195 

deavoring  to  recall  her.  At  another  time  she  fol- 
lowed them  to  the  car,  but  turned  away  with  a 
doubtful  shake  of  her  head. 

The  next  meeting  night  she  waited  in  her  cus- 
tomary place  until  the  mission  folk  were  bowed  in 
prayer,  then  she  tip- toed  into  "The  Anchorage" 
and  slipped  unnoticed  to  a  bench  where  she  could 
see  Eve  sitting  in  the  front  row;  and  as  quietly 
made  her  way  out  again  as  Dr.  Tilghman  pro- 
nounced the  benediction.  Again,  Eve  and  the 
minister  passed  within  a  few  feet  of  where  she 
stood,  but  the  young  woman  only  turned  and 
looked  after  them,  then  went  over  and  paced  up 
and  down  the  bulkhead  until  a  policeman,  grow- 
ing suspicious  of  her  actions,  asked  her  to  leave 
the  waterfront. 

And  so  the  months  passed.  Summer  ripened 
into  early  Autumn  and  garnished  the  leaves  of  all 
the  green  things  with  its  magic  touch.  And  into 
this  enchanted,  colorful  world  of  the  great  out- 
doors the  Tilghmans,  the  artist  and  Eve  wan- 
dered far  and  wide  on  what  they  laughingly  called 
"days  off."  Usually,  they  all  went  merrily  along 
together,  but  sometimes  Piel  and  Mary  Tilghman 
would  somehow,  by  the  artist's  clever  intriguing, 


196  EVE,  JUNIOR 

become  paired  off  and  wander  away  from  Eve  and 
the  doctor.  Yet  again,  it  would  have  been  evi- 
dent to  a  close  observer  that  it  was  the  minister 
who  had  managed  the  coup  and  strolled  casu- 
ally off  with  Eve.  However  it  came  about  that 
they  got  thus  separated  in  pairs  with  always  the 
same  partners,  it  nevertheless  occurred  with  un- 
failing regularity — a  regularity  which  might  have 
made  Eve  thoughtful  had  she  not  been  innocently 
able  to  ascribe  it  to  Piel's  strong  attachment  for 
Miss  Tilghman. 

But  though  no  suspicion  of  the  doctor's  grow- 
ing fondness  for  her  had  entered  Eve's  mind, 
others  were  not  so  blind  to  the  turn  affairs  were 
taking.  Among  the  members  of  the  Ladies'  Guild 
in  Dr.  Tilghman's  church  was  a  clique  that  looked 
upon  their  young,  unmarried  minister  as  a  highly 
desirable  and  eligible  catch  which  some  one  of 
them  would,  sooner  or  later,  be  fortunate  enough 
to  hook  and  land.  So  far,  however,  the  quarry 
had  indicated  no  desire  to  be  bagged,  until  Eve 
had  so  suddenly  appeared  on  the  scene. 

It  began  to  look  as  though  this  little  interloper, 
this  nameless  minx  from  nowhere,  had,  by  some 
mischance  of  fate,  dropped  like  a  bolt  from  a  clear 


THE  GIRL  IN  THE  SHADOW     197 

sky  right  into  the  middle  of  their  visionary  man- 
ger; and  even  if  she  was  not  as  yet  "hogging  the 
oats" — being  considered  somewhat  young  and  in- 
experienced— she  was  in  a  position  of  vantage. 

The  real  shock  came,  however,  when  it  was 
learned  that  this  Eve  creature  had  developed  a 
voice  and  had  been  proposed  as  a  member  of  the 
choir.  The  clique,  to  a  woman,  stood  against  it; 
but  somehow,  when  they  rose  to  the  first  response 
one  Sunday  morning,  there  was  Eve's  bright,  glis- 
tening head  and  sweetly  serious  face  rising  with 
the  others  above  the  curtained  rail  about  the  choir. 

Among  the  extremely  old  and  extremely  young 
women  members  of  the  congregation  who,  being 
consequently  ineligible,  were  not  jealous,  and 
among  the  male  element  of  all  ages,  Eve  made 
friends.  Her  quaint  speech  and  oddly  gracious 
manners  were  ever  a  source  of  delight  and  en- 
chantment to  unprejudiced  minds.  People  who 
met  her  frankly  found  her  so  whole-hearted  and 
sincere  that  they  began  to  like  her  unconsciously, 
for  her  own  love  of  humanity  was  infectious. 

By  the  middle  of  November  Piel's  "Birth  of 
Spring"  was  nearing  completion  and  Eve  no 
longer  had  to  give  her  hour  each  day,  for  the 


198  EVE,  JUNIOR 

artist  required  her  to  pose  only  when  some  subtle 
detail  of  coloring  or  play  of  light  and  shadow 
made  it  imperative.  From  the  day  the  canvas 
was  begun  Piel  had  jealously  guarded  it  from  all 
eyes  save  Eve's,  working  always  behind  locked 
doors  and  placing  the  unfinished  treasure  at  the 
close  of  each  day  in  a  little  fire-  and  thief-proof 
vault  which  he  had  had  installed  some  time  be- 
fore, so  that  no  one  except  the  Tilghmans  even 
guessed  the  secret  of  the  hours  that  Eve  spent  at 
the  studio. 

Early  in  the  fall  Piel  had  begun  to  give  her 
instructions  in  painting,  both  in  oil  and  in  water 
colors,  and  with  this,  as  with  her  pen  and  pencil 
work,  she  surprised  him  by  her  progress;  so  that 
by  late  November  he  was  beginning  to  realize 
his  own  limitations  to  teach  her  more — for  in  her 
constant  practise  she  was  literally  teaching  her- 
self. 

Piel  began  to  hint  at  further  study  in  New 
York  or  abroad,  but  Mary  Tilghman,  thinking  of 
the  girl's  mental  and  spiritual  development,  as 
well,  refused  to  consider  the  idea.  And  Piel, 
knowing  that  she  was  right,  did  not  seek  to  press 
the  suggestion  further. 


THE  GIRL  IN  THE  SHADOW     199 

McLean  had  written  to  Skip  Carroll  from  New- 
port News  where  the  Iris  stopped  for  coal  and 
verifying  orders.  Getting  no  reply,  he  wrote 
again  from  Hatteras,  and  this  time  put  his  own 
name  and  address  on  the  envelope.  In  a  month,, 
having  gone  the  rounds  of  several  rural  post- 
offices,  the  letter  came  back  to  him  much  the 
worse  for  wear  and  marked  "unknown."  Mc- 
Lean then  tried  to  send  a  telegram,  but  when  he 
described  the  destination  of  the  proposed  message 
the  telegraph  company  refused  to  accept  it  for  de- 
livery in  any  other  manner  than  through  the  near- 
est postoffice. 

McLean  then  appealed  to  Washington  for  a 
leave  of  absence  and  was  refused,  owing  to  the 
press  of  work.  Nor  did  the  stormy  season  off 
Hatteras  bring  him  the  longed-for  reprieve,  for 
both  the  Iris  and  the  Alert  received  orders  to  "ex- 
pedite the  surveys  to  an  early  conclusion,"  which 
meant  a  day  or  two  of  hazardous  work  each  week 
while  they  rode  out  a  furious  southeaster  during 
the  interim. 

Johnson  had  left  the  Iris  at  Newport  News 
to  go  as  second  officer  of  a  collier  outbound  from 
Norfolk  for  the  Mediterranean.  Later  the  ship 


200  EVE,  JUNIOR 

was  reported  torpedoed  and  only  a  few  of  her 
crew  had  been  rescued.  The  second  officer's  name 
had  inadvertently  appeared  in  both  lists;  so  that 
there  was  grave  doubt  as  to  his  survival. 

About  the  first  of  November  McLean  wrote 
another  letter  and  along  with  it  a  personal  appeal 
to  the  destined  postoffice,  but  without  result;  the 
letter  was  returned  as  before.  The  reason  for  this 
is  evident  from  the  fact  that  the  local  postoffice 
was  nearly  five  miles  from  the  island.  Skip  Car- 
roll, illiterate,  had  never  written  or  received  a 
letter  in  his  life.  Consequently,  he  was  not  in- 
terested in  the  postoffice  and  had  never  been  there. 
And  the  postmaster,  a  new-comer  in  the  vicinity 
and  keeper  of  the  general  store,  had  never  heard  of 
Skip  Carroll. 

As  for  Plum,  in  his  grief  and  senile  old  age, 
when  his  master  had  come  rowing  home  that  day 
with  his  broken  engine  and  his  bleeding  head,  he 
had  forgotten  all  about  McLean's  hurried  visit 
and  parting.  It  was  not  until  months  afterward 
that,  coming  upon  the  pin  which  the  surveyor  had 
given  him  for  Eve,  he  remembered  and  told  Car- 
roll what  McLean  had  said.  And  then  Skip  went 
at  once  to  the  postoffice  and  asked  about  mail; 


THE  GIRL  IN  THE  SHADOW     201 

but  that  was  long  after  McLean's  last  letter  had 
been  returned  and  the  postmaster  had  forgotten 
the  incident. 

McLean,  spending  many  idle,  endless  day  in 
fruitless  conjecture  and  misery  of  mind  while  the 
Iris  heaved  and  pitched  and  reeled  drunkenly  at 
anchor  off  the  storm-tossed  Cape,  could  think  of 
no  relief  except  to  quit  his  job  and  go  ashore  the 
first  calm  day.  But  just  when  he  had  decided 
upon  this  course,  the  long-hoped-for  respite  came ; 
for  when  a  week  later  the  Iris  put  into  Port  Royal 
with  the  survivors  of  a  derelict  schooner  McLean 
received  orders  to  report  to  Washington  at  the 
expiration  of  a  ten  days'  leave.  He  made  all 
haste  to  the  city  on  the  Patapsco  where  he  en- 
gaged a  launch  and  went  directly  to  Bodkin. 
There  he  found  Skip  just  in  from  his  nets.  They 
met  each  other  with  the  same  eager,  impulsive 
question,  but  both  were  doomed  to  disappoint- 
ment. 

McLean  spent  the  night  on  the  island.  But 
having  no  heart  for  the  enjoyment  of  a  vacation 
and  dreading  to  endure  the  thoughts  which  idle- 
ness would  cultivate,  he  went  at  once  to  Washing- 
ton and  resumed  his  duties,  where  he  remained  un- 


2O2  EVE,  JUNIOR 

til  the  close  of  February.  He  had  been  unwill- 
ingly forced  to  the  same  conclusion  that  Carroll 
entertained:  that  Eve  was  either  dead  or  fallen 
the  victim  of  some  unfathomable  mischance. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  "BIRTH  OF  SPRING" 

TOWARD  the  end  of  January,  acting  upon  the  sug- 
gestion of  Mary  Tilghman  and  with  the  sanction 
and  approval  of  Eve,  Piel  decided  to  enter  his 

painting  at  the Institute  exhibit  in  New 

York.  He  had  purposely  omitted  his  signature 
from  the  canvas  in  order  that  Eve,  as  the  model, 
might  not  be  traced  through  him.  And  now  he 
proposed  to  enter  the  painting  in  a  world-famous 
exhibition  as  an  anonymous  work  and  forego  any 
possibility  of  being  acclaimed  its  creator  in  the 
event  of  its  winning  the  distinction  which  Mary 
Tilghman  prophesied  for  it.  Eve,  seeing  the  sac- 
rifice this  omission  entailed,  begged  Piel  to  put 
his  name  on  it  and  reap  the  honor  and  fame  she 
was  sure  it  would  bring  him;  but  he  steadfastly 
refused  and  had  the  canvas  entered  through  an 
artist  friend  in  Philadelphia  to  avoid  any  possi- 
bility of  discovery.  After  it  had  been  installed 
203 


204  EVE,  JUNIOR 

and  the  exhibition  opened,  however,  he  went  to 
New  York  and  spent  much  time  at  the  Institute, 
not  so  much  to  hear  the  outspoken  appreciation 
of  the  public  and  the  press,  but  to  be  near  his 
treasure  and  to  guard  it  as  a  miser  guards  his  gold. 
From  the  day  the  exhibition  opened  the  "Birth 
of  Spring"  attracted  an  attention  and  comment 
that  aroused  the  genial  envy  of  every  other  ex- 
hibitor. As  the  picture  became  better  known,  how- 
ever, its  fame  began  to  spread  throughout  the 
land.  And  people  came  from  far  and  near  to 
see  it.  Among  those  who  made  the  pilgrimage 
were  several  members  of  Dr.  Tilghman's  con- 
gregation. They  returned  silent  and  confused, 
studying  Eve  with  a  newly  awakened  interest  the 
next  Sunday  morning.  Could  it  be?  was  it  pos- 
sible"? they  wondered.  But  with  an  anonymous 
painting  their  imaginations  drew  upon  limitless 
bounds  for  the  model  and  so  they  were  by  no 
means  sure.  Their  eyes  and  their  minds  dwelt 
upon  Eve  throughout  the  morning  service  and 
again  that  evening,  but  all  went  away  doubtful 
and  unbelieving.  Still,  they  thought,  it  was  a 
strange  coincidence — this  wonderful  likeness  to 
the  minister's  ward. 


THE  "BIRTH  OF  SPRING"        205 

Quite  early  one  morning,  a  few  minutes  after 
the  Institute  had  opened  for  the  day,  Piel  stood 
before  his  picture,  deep  in  meditation,  when  he 
was  aroused  by  the  somewhat  hurried  entrance  of 
a  visitor.  Turning,  he  saw  a  tall,  well-built, 
bronzed  young  man  who  walked  with  a  long,  quick 
stride  and  glanced  inquiringly  about  him  as  he 
entered.  In  a  moment  his  eyes  seemed  to  have 
found  and  focused  upon  what  they  sought,  as  he 
stopped  in  front  of  Piel's  picture.  So  apparently 
intent  had  he  been  upon  his  quest  that  he  took  no 
note  of  the  artist's  presence.  Piel,  interested 
by  the  young  man's  manner  and  concentration, 
watched  him  carefully  and  was  surprised  with 
what  mingled  emotion  the  visitor  viewed  his 
work. 

Presently  the  stranger  glanced  at  Piel  as  if  he 
had  seen  him  for  the  first  time. 

"This  painting  is  anonymous,"  he  said,  as  if 
merely  expressing  a  thought  aloud.  "I  wonder 
if  the  artist  will  disclose  his  identity1?" 

"I  doubt  it,"  Piel  replied,  smiling. 

The  young  man  studied  the  picture  for  an  in- 
terval; then  turned  to  Piel  again.  "Why?"  he 
asked. 


206  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"Well,  he  might  have  personal  reasons  for  pre- 
ferring to  remain  unknown." 

"That's  just  the  point,"  the  visitor  rejoined 
with  heat.  "No  sane  man  would  leave  his  name 
off  of  a  work  like  this  unless  he  had  some  mighty 
pressing  reason  for  not  putting  it  on." 

"Perhaps  he  had,"  Piel  agreed. 

"That  is  evident.  Why,  man — this  picture  is 
the  talk  of  the  country.  It's  wonderful." 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

"Like  it,"  the  visitor  echoed,  as  if  amazed  at 
the  question.  "Yes,  I  like  it,  if  you  can  put  it 
that  way;  but  it  is  too  big  to  be  encompassed  by 
such  a  diminutive  expression." 

"Just  what  about  it  strikes  you  most  forcibly?" 
Piel  suggested,  determined  to  fathom  the  depth  of 
the  other's  unusual  interest. 

"Two  things,"  the  young  man  replied  gravely. 
"The  first,  that  it  is  a  magnificent  work  of  art, 
though  I  don't  know  enough  about  such  things 
to  half  appreciate  it.  The  other,  the  most  impor- 
tant thing — the  feature  that  brought  me  here — 
is  that  it  looks  so  remarkably  like  a  girl  I  used  to 
know." 

"Ah!"  Piel  breathed  quickly.     "Where?" 


THE  "BIRTH  OF  SPRING"        207 

"Down  in  Maryland." 

"When?" 

"Less  than  a  year  ago.  She  disappeared  one 
night.  We've  never  heard  of  her  since." 

The  young  man  hesitated,  swallowed  hard  and 
fixed  his  eyes  on  the  face  of  the  girl  "Spring." 
He  brushed  his  hand  across  his  forehead  as  if  to 
remove  a  veil  of  illusion.  Was  he  dreaming?  He 
turned  in  sudden  bewilderment  and  looked  at  Piel. 
As  if  to  be  sure  of  the  artist's  presence,  he  ad- 
dressed him  vaguely.  "We  thought  she  was 
dead,"  he  said. 

Piel  started  and  scrutinized  the  visitor  care- 
fully. Was  this  a  ruse  to  identify  the  painter  and 
his  model?  Was  he  suspected  as  the  author  and 
shadowed  for  his  secret? 

"There  is  something  sinister,  even  criminal,  per- 
haps, about  this  coincidence — if  it  is  a  coinci- 
dence," the  young  man  went  on  with  rising  heat. 
"The  whole  thing  is  unbelievable,  incomprehen- 
sible. I  cannot  understand  it,  and  yet  it  is  so 
plainly  she  that  I  can  scarcely  doubt  it — but  I 
do,"  he  added  in  afterthought.  "It  is  too  utterly 
impossible.  I  suppose  nearly  every  one  has  a  dou- 
ble somewhere.  Don't  you  think  so?" 


208  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"I  don't  know,"  the  artist  replied.  "When  did 
you  say  your  acquaintance  disappeared4?" 

It  was  the  visitor  who  now  evinced  suspicion, 
but  after  a  moment  of  hesitation  he  replied.  Piel 
became  gravely  thoughtful.  What  was  the  con- 
nection of  circumstances  in  this  case*?  Was  it  a 
mere  coincidence  of  likeness,  even  an  illusion,  per- 
haps, in  the  mind  of  the  stranger?  Or  was  this 
a  tangible  clue  to  Eve's  identity?  Of  a  sudden  he 
found  himself  strangely  reluctant  to  pursue  the 
subject  to  a  conclusion. 

It  was  the  visitor,  however,  who  determined  this 
phase  of  the  question.  Watch  in  hand  he  glanced 
at  the  time  for  the  briefest  instant. 

"Phew!"  he  whistled  his  surprise.  "Just  five 
minutes  to  catch  my  train." 

And  the  next  moment  he  had  dashed  out  of  the 
gallery  and  was  hurrying  down  the  long  marble 
corridor  to  the  street  while  Piel,  taken  by  surprise 
in  the  midst  of  his  meditation,  stood  quite  still 
and  watched  him  merge  into  the  passing  throngs. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BROOKIE 

MARCH  came,  and  with  it  the  first  faint  breath  of 
Spring.  Meanwhile,  Doctor  Tilghman's  atten- 
tions had  grown  more  and  more  obvious  to  every 
one  except  Eve  herself.  Through  jealous  eyes 
the  clique  naturally  saw  the  drift  of  the  current 
first,  openly  snubbing  her  on  every  possible  occa- 
sion. But  Eve  wasted  little  thought  or  conjec- 
ture upon  the  reason  of  their  antagonism.  Her 
days  were  too  well  filled  with  worth-while  things 
to  spend  much  time  in  morbid  apprehension. 

One  evening  toward  the  middle  of  March 
while  the  doctor  and  Eve  were  motoring  to  "The 
Anchorage"  the  climax  came. 

Dr.  Tilghman  was  at  the  wheel,  silent  and  pre- 
occupied. Eve,  snuggled  up  in  the  seat  beside 
him,  happy  and  oblivious  of  the  culminating 
tumult  that  beset  his  heart,  spoke  delightedly  of  a 
letter  she  had  received  from  Piel  a  few  days  be- 
209 


2io  EVE,  JUNIOR 

fore  in  which  he  had  said  that  it  was  generally 
conceded  that  the  "Birth  of  Spring"  would  take 
first  honors  at  the  Institute  exhibit.  In  the  event 
it  did,  he  had  written,  he  wanted  her  permission 
to  enter  it  at  the  Salon  of  the  Academy  of  Arts 
and  Sciences  in  Paris.  And  in  reply  she  had  told 
him  that  he  was  not  only  to  send  it  to  Paris  but 
to  enter  it  under  his  own  signature.  Upon  this 
point  she  had  insisted,  though  both  Mary  and  her 
brother  had  frowned  dubiously  when  the  letter 
was  written.  But  Eve  had  been  firm  in  maintain- 
ing her  stand — and  neither  of  the  Tilghmans  had 
offered  decided  objections. 

It  may  have  been  a  premonition  of  the  involved 
situation  in  which  this  act  would  result  that 
prompted  Dr.  Tilghman  to  speak  sooner  than  he 
had  perhaps  intended.  They  were  nearing  their 
destination  when,  after  a  long,  meditative  silence 
during  which  his  attention  seemed  fixed  upon  the 
course  of  the  machine,  the  minister  abruptly  in- 
terrupted Eve  with  the  unprefaced  burden  of  his 
heart. 

"I  love  you,  Eve,"  he  said  simply,  yet  with  a 
hungry,  passionate  note  in  his  voice  that  a  more 


BROOKIE  211 

sophisticated  listener  would  not  have  failed  to 
understand. 

"I  love  you,  too,  Dr.  Malcom,"  Eve  replied  as 
simply,  and  snuggled  closer,  adding  with  her  eyes 
agleam,  "I  reckon  I  must  have  liked  you  right 
away  that  first  day  at  the  station  house.  And 
nobody  could  help  but  love  Miss  Mary  T.  You're 
just  the  best  people  in  the  world,  both  of  you." 

The  minister  brought  the  car  to  a  stop  beside 
the  curb  in  front  of  "The  Anchorage"  and  turned 
toward  his  fair  companion.  His  hand  sought  hers 
and  trembled  a  little  as  it  found  it.  Eve  looked 
up  at  him,  her  eyes  smiling,  her  face  expectant. 
In  that  moment  Dr.  Tilghman  knew  that  his 
cause  was  lost,  that  Eve,  all  unsuspecting,  had  mis- 
understood the  portent  of  his  words;  but  he  went 
bravely  on. 

"It  is  a  different  kind  of  love  that  I  mean,  Eve," 
he  told  her  with  gentle  gravity,  "the  love  that  is 
said  to  come  'once  to  every  man.'  It  has  not  come 
to  you  yet.  I  felt  that  before  I  spoke;  I  know  it 
now.  It  was  too  much  even  to  hope  for.  But  I 
thought  that  some  time  it  might — that  later  on 
should  you  feel  some  measure  of  a  love  like  that 
for  me,  my  waiting  would  be  a  thousand  times  re- 


212  EVE,  JUNIOR 

paid,  only — I  was  foolishly  impatient.  I  did  not 
want  to  wait." 

Eve  studied  him  soberly  during  an  interval  of 
thought,  measuring  the  meaning  of  what  he  said 
with  scrupulous  care.  When  she  felt  that  she  had 
fathomed  it  the  revelation  left  her  deeply  moved, 
even  startled.  But  there  was  no  least  taint  of 
conventional  hypocrisy  in  her  primitive  nature; 
and  she  brought  the  matter  clearly  to  an  unmis- 
takable issue. 

"You  mean  that  some  day  you  would  want  me 
to  marry  you?"  she  asked  quite  simply. 

No  blush  tinged  her  cheeks  with  a  deeper  pink 
than  health  and  the  winds  of  March  had  given 
them.  There  was  no  fluttering  droop  of  her  eye- 
lids nor  did  she  shrink  becomingly  away  from 
him.  Instead,  her  hand  tightened  loyally  about 
his  and  her  eyes  were  steady  beacons  of  honesty 
and  truth. 

"Yes!"  he  replied  eagerly,  far  more  confused 
than  she  was  in  her  sweet,  unsophisticated  sim- 
plicity. 

Eve  earnestly  considered. 

"Doctor  Malcom,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "if 
I  come  to  feel  that  way  about  you  some  day,  I'll 


BROOKIE  213 

tell  you;  honest  I  will.  But  mind  you,"  she 
warned,  "if  I  do,  the  church  folks  won't  like  it." 

"The  church  folks  have  nothing  to  do  with  it," 
Dr.  Tilghman  warmly  denied.  "If  you  ever  come 
to  love  me  as  I  love  you — and  I  earnestly  pray 
God  you  will — there  shall  be  no  one  to  consider 
but  ourselves  and  Mary  T." 

"But,  Dr.  Malcom,  you  know  what  folks  will 
say,"  Eve  insisted  seriously,  "and  I  reckon  they'll 
be  right  because,  after  all,  I  ain't  nothing — I 
mean  I  am  nothing  but — but  just  what  some  of 
the  Guild  ladies  said.  I  heard  'em  say  it." 

"Heard  them  say  what*?"  demanded  the  min- 
ister, wrathfully  indignant  that  any  of  his  con- 
gregation should  have  indulged  in  a  criticism  of 
his  ward. 

"That  I  was  'a  nameless  minx  from  nowhere' 
— a  little  what's-you-call-it,  antelope?  or  some- 
thing— interloper,  that  was  it,  whatever  that  is. 
But,  anyway,  I 'reckon  they're  right,"  said  Eve. 

And  forthwith  Dr.  Tilghman  made  a  mental 
note  to  include  in  his  next  Sunday  morning's  ser- 
mon a  comprehensive  discourse  upon  the  charity 
of  thought,  word  and  deed  toward  the  "stranger 
that  is  within  thy  gates." 


214  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"Never  mind  what  others  say  in  a  deplorable 
spirit  of  ill  will  and  envy,"  he  counseled.  "Only 
try  to  find  it  in  your  heart  to  return  my  love  some 
day,  Eve,  just  as  you  are — unchanged,  unspoiled, 
uncontaminated  by  contact  with  a  pharisaical 
super-civilization  that  does  its  worst  to  distort  us 
morally  and  mentally  and  makes  us  hypocrites  to 
our  better  selves  and  before  God.  .  .  .  Come, 
now;  I  dare  say  we  are  late." 

With  a  quiet,  almost  reverent  solicitude,  Dr. 
Tilghman  assisted  her  from  the  machine  and  to- 
gether they  entered  the  mission  room  of  "The 
Anchorage." 

The  service  was  unusually  protracted  that  even- 
ing. Nearly  half  an  hour  before  the  benediction 
was  pronounced  the  girl  in  the  long,  light  coat 
came  slowly  down  Broadway.  She  moved  with  a 
lassitude  that  seemed  to  indicate  some  premature 
infirmity  or  as  if  the  tiny,  cloaked  bundle  she 
hugged  so  tightly  to  her  breast  was  a  burden  that 
sorely  taxed  her  strength. 

At  the  corner  she  sought  the  old  familiar  refuge 
of  the  awning's  shadow,  leaning  weakly  against  a 
post  for  momentary  support;  for  it  was  the  first 
time  in  weeks  that  she  had  walked  so  far  and 


BROOKIE  215 

the  burden  in  her  arms  had  grown  with  every 
weary  step  of  the  way  until  at  last  it  seemed  that 
she  could  bear  it  no  longer.  And  then  she  sank 
upon  the  friendly  doorstep. 

The  mission  folk  were  singing  the  doxology. 
Faintly  came  the  benediction:  "The  peace  of 
God  be  with  you  all,"  she  heard;  and  hearing, 
wondered,  as  she  had  never  ceased  to  wonder  since 
that  first  night  so  long  ago  when  she  had  slipped 
into  the  mission  unnoticed,  if  the  peace  of  God 
would  ever  return  unto  her  passion-shriveled  soul 
and  make  her  whole  again. 

And  now  as  he  and  Eve  came  out  when  the 
last  of  the  mission  folks  had  gone,  the  woman, 
feeling  herself  to  be  near  a  presence  almost  di- 
vine, struggled  weakly  to  her  feet  and  shrank  a 
little  further  into  the  shadow  of  the  doorway. 
Eve  entered  the  car,  taking  the  wheel  seat,  but 
as  the  doctor  was  about  to  follow  her  he  remem- 
bered a  package  he  had  left  in  the  chancel  and 
returned  to  "The  Anchorage"  to  get  it. 

Summoning  every  particle  of  energy  which  the 
weeks  of  suffering  and  the  culminating  ordeal  had 
left  her,  the  woman  made  a  violent,  headlong  dash 


216  EVE,  JUNIOR 

for  the  side  of  the  car  where  Eve  sat  awaiting 
the  return  of  the  minister. 

The  girl,  startled  by  the  stranger's  mad  ap- 
proach, shrank  back  against  the  cushions  while 
her  wondering  eyes  and  senses  strove  to  compre- 
hend the  situation.  For  an  instant  she  saw  the 
woman's  face  in  the  full,  white  glare  of  a  nearby 
arc  light  and  a  gleam  of  sudden  recognition  flashed 
into  her  own. 

"Brookie !"  cried  Eve,  putting  out  her  hands  in 
impulsive  greeting. 

And  into  Eve's  outstretched  hands  Brookie  Car- 
roll laid  her  precious  little  bundle.  Instinctively 
the  startled  girl  took  it  to  her  breast. 

"Take  him,  Eve,  and  for  God's  sake  be  good 
to  him,  for  I  can't,"  Brookie  whispered  in  a  chok- 
ing sob  that  almost  drowned  her  words.  "When 
he  is  big,  tell  him  anything  else  he  wants  to  know 
— but  never,  oh !  never,  tell  him,  or  any  one  else, 
who  his  mother  was." 

And  in  the  next  instant,  without  a  word  of  fare- 
well, she  had  dashed  wildly  away  and  disappeared 
into  the  night. 

Stunned  by  the  crushing  rapidity  of  events 
which  had  left  her  no  alternative,  Eve  sat  for  a 


BROOKIE  217 

brief,  inactive  moment,  too  confused  to  think. 
The  same  instinct  that  had  prompted  her,  startled 
as  she  was,  to  hug  the  tiny  bundled  bit  of  hu- 
manity to  her  heart  now  responded  to  her  frantic, 
inner  call  for  aid.  In  the  next  instant  she  found 
herself  getting  hurriedly  out  of  the  machine  with- 
out thought  or  reason  for  the  act.  Once  in  the 
street,  however,  her  clouded,  confused  vision 
cleared  somewhat. 

She  knew  that  she  must  get  away ;  that  the  min- 
ister, returning,  must  not  see  her  standing  there 
with  Brookie's  baby  in  her  arms,  for  she  could  not 
answer  the  questions  he  was  sure  to  ask:  Whose 
baby  was  it1?  Who  was  Brookie?  And  Brookie's 
husband — who  was  he?  And  what  had  she,  Eve, 
to  do  with  it  all?  No,  she  could  not  face  those 
questions.  She  must  go  now  before  it  was  too  late. 
Where  was  it  that  Brookie  had  been  able  to  dis- 
appear so  quickly?  Ah,  yes;  the  dark,  smelly, 
fish  market.  ...  In  a  moment  Eve  was  gone. 

Half  an  hour  later,  Eve,  with  the  little  frag- 
ment of  humanity  hugged  to  her  heart,  left  a 
street  car  at  its  crossing  with  the  Annapolis  Road 
and  faced  southward  along  the  hard  macadam 
highway.  Perhaps,  after  all,  she  had  reasoned,  she 


218  EVE,  JUNIOR 

owed  this  to  Brookie.  It  may  have  been  more 
her  fault  than  the  fault  of  the  young  stepmother 
that  Brookie  had  left  the  island  that  night  of 
storm  six  years  ago.  Eve  would  take  her  child 
and  care  for  it  as  an  evidence  of  good  faith,  as  an 
act  of  indemnity  and  reparation  for  her  share  of 
the  moral  responsibility  for  the  unfortunate  affair. 

Of  her  own  great  sacrifice  she  had  no  thought. 
In  the  execution  of  what  she  felt  to  be  her  duty 
there  was  no  middle  ground.  She  gave  all  that 
was  hers  to  give  and  though  her  heart  was  break- 
ing for  those  she  had  just  left  and  all  they  had 
come  to  mean  to  her,  she  resolutely  put  away  the 
temptation  to  turn  back,  and  faced  her  newer 
duty  with  a  will  that  was  absolute. 

With  characteristic  decision  her  mind  had 
quickly  arrived  at  a  conclusion  from  which  she 
did  not  swerve.  She  was  going  back  to  Bodkin. 

It  was  late  when  Eve  had  entered  the  old  road ; 
it  was  nearly  daylight  when,  at  last,  a  faint  glow 
began  to  filter  in  upon  the  path  ahead  and  brighten 
as  the  trail  widened  and  dipped  to  the  yellow 
beach  beyond  which  lay  the  island.  A  half  tide 
covered  the  neck  waist-deep,  but  Eve,  thinking 


BROOKIE  219 

only  of  the  little  mortal  in  her  arms,  and  thank- 
ful that  the  icy  water  was  not  at  full  flood,  waded 
in  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 

The  water  chilled  and  cramped  her  aching 
muscles  and  sent  her  blood  back  icy  cold  until  her 
very  heart  seemed  frozen  within  her.  The  quick 
reaction  drove  all  desire  of  sleep  from  her  and 
left  her  wide  awake  to  suffer  more  keenly  than 
ever  the  utter  exhaustion  of  an  overwrought  mind 
and  body.  As  she  came  out  on  the  island  beach 
the  light  wind  wrapped  her  dripping  skirts  about 
her  so  that  she  staggered  and  stumbled  at  every 
step. 

And  the  dog,  Tip,  lying  in  the  open  doorway 
of  old  Plum's  cabin,  half  awake,  half  asleep,  yet 
ever  watchful  and  alert,  heard  the  strange  commo- 
tion and  decided  to  investigate.  A  moment  later 
he  was  romping  joyously  about  his  beloved,  long- 
lost  mistress  and  giving  vent  to  his  extreme  hap- 
piness in  great  deep-throated  barks  which  Eve 
tried  vainly  to  suppress.  For  Tip  argued  that 
this  was  his  day  and  he  meant  to  celebrate  it  in 
the  only  way  he  knew. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BACK    TO    BODKIN 

EXHAUSTED  though  Eve  was  when  she  reached  the 
old  familiar  shack  she  took  no  thought  to  her  own 
comfort.  The  child  had  slept  soundly  through- 
out the  eventful  night.  Even  the  barking  of  the 
dog  had  not  disturbed  him.  But  now  as  she  car- 
ried him  to  her  room  and  laid  him  gently  on  the 
bed  he  began  to  grow  restive  and  show  signs  of 
waking.  With  her  wet  skirts  still  clinging  to  her, 
she  hurried  to  the  cupboard  in  the  living  room 
where,  as  she  had  expected,  she  found  a  jar  of 
sweet  milk  in  its  usual  place. 

A  yeast  powder  bottle  was  quickly  emptied  of 
its  contents  and  thoroughly  cleansed  and  filled 
with  milk.  She  then  took  the  cork,  and,  cutting 
the  center  out  of  it,  inserted  a  little  piece  of  linen 
torn  from  a  clean  pillow  case  and  tied  a  knot  in 
it  on  the  under  side  of  the  cork.  Pressing  the 
cork  tightly  into  the  bottle  she  put  the  contrivance 


BACK  TO  BODKIN  221 

to  her  lips  and  sucked  hard  to  test  it.  The  knot 
held  and  a  tiny  stream  of  milk  was  drawn  through 
the  linen  into  her  mouth. 

She  laughed,  well  pleased  with  the  success  of 
her  experiment,  and  returned  to  her  room  just  as 
the  child  awakened.  He  threw  out  his  hands  in 
eager  expectation,  feeling  around  for  his  break- 
fast in  the  blindly  futile  way  of  infant  kind.  Not 
finding  it  in  the  course  of  his  maneuvers,  he  waxed 
warm  and  red  with  anger  and  impatience,  his  dig- 
nity deeply  offended  at  the  apparent  neglect  and 
delay.  His  round  little  face  wrinkled  with  in- 
fantile fury  until  it  resembled  a  small,  shriveled, 
sun-dried  pumpkin;  and  then  he  gave  vociferous7 
vent  to  his  injured  feelings. 

When  Eve  put  the  improvised  nipple  between 
his  widely  parted  lips  and  turned  him  comfortably 
on  his  side,  however,  the  wrinkles  of  rage  faded 
to  the  chubby  creases  of  a  cherubic  smile.  The 
baby  went  to  work  with  a  will  that  quickly  dimin- 
ished the  milk  supply  and  left  him  peacefully 
sleeping. 

It  was  just  a  little  after  sunrise  when  Eve, 
broom  in  hand,  opened  the  front  door  prepara- 
tory to  sweeping  the  living  room  and  there  on  the 


222  EVE,  JUNIOR 

broad  stone  step  stood  Plum  about  to  enter.  Im- 
bued with  all  the  fearsome  superstition  of  his  race, 
the  sudden  sight  of  Eve  threw  the  old  negro  into 
a  violent  fit  of  alarm.  He  thrust  out  his  with- 
ered black  hands  as  if  to  ward  off  the  approach  of 
an  evil  spirit  and  his  glazed  old  eyes  widened 
with  abject  fear.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  was 
to  him  a  vision  of  his  divine  "li'l  Missy,"  his  ter- 
ror was  none  the  less  overwhelming  and  complete. 

"Why,  Plum,  you  darlin'  old  black  rascal," 
Eve  chided  him  affectionately.  "Don't  you  know 
your  little  missy  any  more*?" 

The  old  negro  blinked  doubtfully  and  stared 
at  her  with  unbelieving  eyes.  Then  he  lifted  his 
hand  to  her  cheek  and  stroked  its  firm,  pale 
smoothness  as  though  he  thus  assured  himself  of 
her  reality.  In  the  next  moment  he  hugged  her 
to  his  breast  and  his  tears  wet  her  glistening  hair. 

"De  Lawd  be  praised !  If  hit  ain't  li'l  Missy 
done  come  back  ag'in!"  he  sobbed  with  joy  when 
he  found  his  voice.  "Ole  Plum,  he  'lowed  de 
swamp  done  ketched  her,  too,  an'  here  she  done 
come  back  to  life.  Praise  de  Lawd !  Ole  Plum, 
de  Lawd  be  praised !" 

Eve  led  him  into  the  room  and  to  a  chair,  for 


BACK  TO  BODKIN  223 

the  old  fellow's  fright  had  left  him  somewhat 
feeble.  She  hastened  to  the  cupboard  where  she 
had  always  kept  his  whiskey. 

"I  think  you'd  better  have  a  little  bracer, 
Plum,"  she  smiled.  "Seeing  me  has  made  you 
weak  in  the  knees." 

"Li'l  Missy  'peared  mighty  lak  a  ha'nt  to  ole 
Plum,  a-poppin'  outen  de  do' way  lak  a-dat  all  on 
a-suddent.  Reckon  he  mought  ought  to  have  a 
leetle  drap  this  here  mornin'.  Ain't  had  ary  dram 
since  li'l  Missy  went  away,  ole  Plum  ain't. 
'Lowed  he'd  never  te'ch  de  stuff  ag'in  'less  she-all 
come'n  back  and  here  she  is." 

He  turned  to  watch  Eve  pour  the  liquor  for  him 
and  entered  his  usual  plea  and  protest  when  she 
put  the  jug  aside. 

"Jus5  another  drap;  li'l  Missy  mought  make 
hit  jus'  another  drap  dis  here  time,"  coaxed  Plum. 

Eve  laughed. 

"You  haven't  forgotten  your  old  tricks,  have 
you,  Plum*?  Well,  maybe  this  is  a  sort  of  special 
occasion.  In  honor  of  my  return  you  shall  have 
three  fingers  to-day.  But  mind  you,  Plum,  just 
for  to-day.  To-morrow,  two  fingers  and  no  more ; 
so  don't  forget!" 


224  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Plum  took  the  glass  with  a  trembling  hand 
and  drained  the  contents  at  a  gulp.  A  slow  smile 
overspread  his  glossy,  blue-black  features  as  he 
smacked  his  lips  in  relishing  aftertaste. 

£COle  Plum'd  kind  o'  lak  for  li'l  Missy  t'  come'n 
back  every  day,"  he  cackled,  laughing  uproari- 
ously at  his  little  witticism. 

Then  Plum  recounted  all  that  had  happened 
since  the  night  Eve  disappeared;  the  useless 
search  that  had  occupied  all  of  the  next  day;  the 
return  of  her  father  toward  noon  of  the  second 
day  with  his  broken  head  and  engine;  the  depar- 
ture of  the  Iris  and  McLean's  message,  which 
Plum  had  forgotten  to  transmit,  and,  finally,  of 
the  surveyor's  visit  to  the  island  during  the  winter. 

At  this  juncture  of  his  narrative  Plum  hurried 
to  his  quarters  as  fast  as  his  old  legs  would  take 
him  and  fetched  back  the  pin  which  McLean  had 
given  him  for  Eve.  The  girl  took  it  and  fastened 
it  in  her  blue  denim  waist.  This  little  act  of  Mc- 
Lean's in  a  large  measure  reassured  her  of  his 
good  will.  And  more  than  ever  now  she  was  cer- 
tain that  Johnson  had  lied. 

Eve  realized  how  utterly  helpless  she  was  to 
make  any  plausible  or  satisfactory  explanation 


BACK  TO  BODKIN  225 

to  her  father.  Even  if  it  came  to  the  worst  and 
she  was  compelled  to  give  account  of  the  child 
she  decided  that  it  should  be  a  fictitious  one,  for 
she  knew  that,  aside  from  the  debt  of  duty  she 
felt  toward  Brookie,  she  could  never  bring  her- 
self to  tell  Skip  that  the  boy  belonged  to  his  wife. 
Better  a  thousand  times  that  he  should  continue 
to  think  of  Brookie  as  dead  than  to  know  her  to 
be  living  in  shame  and  adultery.  Rather  than 
wound  her  father  with  this  knowledge  Eve  de- 
termined to  risk  her  own  honor  and  his  love  for 
her. 

At  eleven  o'clock  Skip  landed  on  the  log  wharf, 
staked  out  his  live  box  and  made  at  once  for  the 
shack.  And  soon  father  and  daughter  were  elapsed 
in  each  other's  arms. 

For  a  time  Carroll  was  so  supremely  happy 
and  content  in  the  possession  of  his  daughter  again 
that  he  asked  few  questions.  And  though  the  re- 
plies he  got  were  usually  evasive  and  ambiguous, 
he  was  almost  satisfied. 

It  was  not  until  lunch  was  over  and  Eve  had 
finished  the  dishes  that  he  asked  a  point-blank 
question  that  demanded  a  definite  answer. 

"How  come  you  to  quit  us  so  suddent,  like, 


226  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Eve?"  he  began  quietly.  "And  where  you  been 
so  long?" 

"I'd  rather  not  talk  about  it,  Dad.  I'm  all 
right  and  I've  been  where  folks  were  mighty  good 
to  me.  But,  of  course,  I'm  awful  glad  to  be  home 
again.  And  I've  learned  things,  too,  Dad.  I  can 
read  and  write,  and — and  talk  a  little  better  than 
I  used  to;  because,  Dad,  other  folks  don't  talk 
just  like  we  do.  Not  that  it  makes  any  differ- 
ence, though — but  I  am  glad  that  I  can  read  and 
write.  And  I  can  draw  better  and  paint,  too, 
Dad.  Oh,  I've  learned  lots  since  I  went  away! 
But  now  that  I'm  back  I'm  glad;  and  I  won't  ever 
go  away  any  more." 

"Did  you  go  'way  to  1'arn  things'?" 

"Why,  yes,"  Eve  hesitated  on  the  brink  of  an 
idea  that  might  aid  her  in  allaying  his  suspicions. 
"Yes,  I  reckon  I  did." 

For  three  days  all  went  well.  Skip  was  away 
for  the  better  part  of  the  time.  And  old  Plum 
was  so  deaf  that  even  when,  on  one  occasion — 
while  he  was  eating  after  Carroll  had  finished  and 
gone — the  boy  began  to  cry,  he  did  not  hear  the 
wail.  On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  how- 
ever, the  little  fellow  was  very  troublesome.  And 


BACK  TO  BODKIN  227 

more  than  once  Eve  was  sure  that  her  secret  was 
out,  for  Skip  was  tarring  some  nets  down  on  the 
beach  and  frequently  came  to  the  shack  for  some 
little  thing  that  he  needed — now  a  needle,  now 
more  twine,  or  again  for  a  bite  from  the  cupboard. 
By  good  luck  and  the  use  of  much  diplomacy  in 
handling  the  child,  however,  Eve  managed  to  keep 
him  quiet  when  her  father  was  near.  She  knew 
that  Carroll  would  be  going  out  to  his  nets  soon 
after  lunch  and  that  it  would  be  well  past  night- 
fall when  he  returned.  So  toward  this  promise 
of  respite  she  leaned  hopefully. 

But  the  game  she  was  playing  contained  un- 
known quantities  and  elements  of  surprise  which 
no  amount  of  reckoning  could  foresee  and  provide 
against.  Lunch  passed  off  smoothly.  But  as  Eve 
and  Plum  ate,  a  storm  brewed;  and  soon  after 
noon  a  squall  broke  down  from  the  northwest  with 
a  sudden  fury  that  bent  the  tree-tops  and  flattened 
the  young  grass  and  sent  sheets  of  rain  pattering 
against  the  window  panes.  And  with  the  rain,  in 
came  Skip,  impatient  with  the  enforced  delay. 

As  he  was  standing  at  the  window  watching  the 
steady  progress  of  the  storm  with  evident  dis- 
pleasure, the  baby  cried  in  the  next  room.  It  was 


228  EVE,  JUNIOR 

only  the  faintest  of  wails.  And  Eve  hoped  that 
she  alone  had  heard  the  sound.  Hurrying  to  her 
room,  she  was  attempting  to  quiet  the  child,  when 
she  looked  up  from  the  basket  to  find  her  father 
standing  in  the  doorway,  his  face  red  and  white 
by  turns,  his  eyes  flashing  angrily,  his  brows  con- 
tracted and  glowering. 

He  advanced  upon  her  fiercely  as  she  bent  over 
the  swinging  basket. 

"So  that  there  is  what  tuk  ye  away,  is  it*?"  he 
roared,  adding  with  a  contemptuous  sneer,  "And 
what  brung  ye  back  ag'in,  hey?" 

"No,  Dad!"  Eve  quietly  denied.  "You're 
wrong.  I  know  how  it  looks  to  you  and  I  reckon 
I  can't  blame  you,  but  you're  wrong.  I  didn't 
go  away  for — for  anything  like  that.  It  isn't 
mine,  Dad " 

"Whose  is  it?"  Skip  interrupted  hotly. 

"I  can't  tell  you,  Dad,  but  it  isn't  mine." 

Skip  looked  at  her  long  and  searchingly.  "Eve 
Carroll,"  he  said  slowly,  mastering  his  anger  some- 
what, "you  ain't  never  told  me  a  lie — before." 

"And  I'm  not  now,  Dad,  but  you're  asking  me 
something  that  I  can't  answer.  He  is  not  my 


'So  that  there  is  what  tuk  ye  away,  is  it  ?" 


BACK  TO  BODKIN  229 

child.  His  mother  couldn't  take  care  of  him  and 
she  gave  him  to  me." 

Carroll  laughed  hoarsely;  then  he  flushed  with 
anger  until  the  veins  in  his  neck  and  temples  stood 
out  like  knotted  cords. 

"A  dam'  onlikely  kind  o'  yarn!"  he  jeered  con- 
temptuously. "You  mought  as  well  own  up,  gal, 
as  spin  such  stuff  as  that  to  me.  I  wa'n't  born 
yistidday  an'  my  eyes  is  open.  Eve,  I  never 
thought  you'd  a-come  to  the  likes  o'  this.  I'd 
ruther  a  thousand  times  o'  put  you  'longside  the 
others  out  there  underneath  the  willow  than  see 
you  a-standin'  there  a-lyin'  about  a  thing  like 
that.  Who  was  it,  gal?  The  mate  or  the  sur- 
veyor? Answer  me,  Eve,  and  be  quick  about  it!" 

The  girl  was  silent,  her  crimson  face  averted. 

Skip  leaned  over,  and,  grasping  her  firmly  by 
the  arm,  swung  her  around  to  face  him. 

"You'll  answer  what  I  ask  ye,  or  by  God,  you'll 
take  yourself  and  your  brat  back  where  ye  come 
from  quicker'n  scat !" 

"Very  well,  Dad!  I've  said  all  I  had  to  say," 
was  her  resolute  reply  as  she  turned  to  the  child 
again. 


230  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Carroll  studied  her  for  an  uncertain  moment. 
"Very  well  what?"  he  demanded. 

"I'll  go,"  said  Eve  quietly. 

For  an  instant  the  big  fisherman  flared  hotly. 
Then  of  a  sudden  the  flame  of  his  anger  died  and 
left  him  cold  and  remorseful.  He  stretched  forth 
his  arms  and  gathered  her  to  his  heart  in  a  long, 
tender  embrace.  Tears  sprang  to  his  eyes  and 
rolled  slowly  down  his  brown,  weather-beaten 
cheeks  and  his  voice  when  he  spoke  was  choked 
with  sobs. 

"My  poor  leetle  gal!"  he  commiserated 
brokenly,  as  he  stroked  the  copperish-golden  head 
that  nestled  against  his  bosom.  "I  can't,  I  jus' 
can't  git  along  without  ye,  now  you're  back  ag'in. 
I  don't  keer,  by  Harry,  if  ye'd  brung  home  a  whole 
litter  o'  kids — you're  my  gal,  my  leetle  Eve  and 
you're  all  I  got!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A    BAFFLING    LIKENESS 

THE  days  that  followed  were  days  of  heartbreak 
for  Eve,  for  though  her  father  never  again  ques- 
tioned her  about  the  child  she  could  see  that  the 
subject  was  ever  present  in  his  mind.  He  grew 
silent  and  moody,  and  ate  his  meals  and  went  his 
way  with  scarce  a  word  or  smile.  Sometimes,  as 
of  old,  he  would  take  Eve  in  his  arms  and  hold  her 
close  for  a  long  moment,  while  his  lips  caressed 
her  hair.  But  seldom  at  such  times  did  he  speak; 
and  presently,  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh,  he  would 
release  her  and  stride  silently  out  to  his  boat. 

And  Eve,  sensing  the  strong,  unmistakable  un- 
dercurrent of  feeling  that  prompted  these  pitiful 
little  demonstrations  of  her  father's  great  love  for 
her,  would  run  to  her  room  and  fling  herself  upon 
her  bed.  There  she  would  sob  her  heart  out  until 
the  boy,  swinging  in  his  improvised  crib,  de- 
manded her  attention  and  distracted  her  thoughts. 
231 


232  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Then,  perhaps,  she  would  take  him  in  her  arms 
and  rock  and  sing  and  croon  him  to  sleep  again 
while  her  tears  dried. 

Often  when  the  little  fellow  was  wakeful  she 
would  wrap  him  in  a  soft,  warm  blanket  and  carry 
him  up  the  island  road  to  her  old  lookout  on  the 
top  of  the  bank  at  the  foot  of  the  great  water  oak. 
Here,  as  in  other  days,  when  the  weather  per- 
mitted, she  spent  much  of  her  time,  though  in  a 
very  different  way — for  the  pencil  of  former  days 
no  longer  occupied  her  attention.  She  would  sit 
for  hours  unmoved,  looking  out  over  the  shimmer- 
ing water  while  the  boy  slept  peacefully  in  her 
lap.  For  the  most  part,  she  tried  not  to  think. 
And  with  practise  she  found  that  concentration 
toward  this  end  grew  less  and  less  difficult.  But 
there  were  times  when  her  efforts  proved  futile 
and  her  eyes  would  fill  and  her  lips  tremble  with 
ill  suppressed  emotion. 

She  spent  hours,  too,  at  the  helm  of  her  catboat, 
with  the  boy  wrapped  snugly  on  the  seat  beside 
her;  but  the  old  charm  of  sailing  was  gone  and  in 
its  place  had  come  a  weariness  that  soon  discour- 
aged her  from  further  attempts  to  revive  her  inter- 
est in  that  form  of  recreation. 


A  BAFFLING  LIKENESS  233 

As  the  weeks  passed  the  boy  grew  and  thrived 
under  Eve's  solicitous  mothering.  His  features, 
at  first  so  vague  and  unformed  with  that  nebulous 
generality  of  the  new-born  child,  began  to  assume 
definition.  From  the  merely  generic  stage,  they 
gradually  metamorphosed  into  the  specific,  betray- 
ing certain  characteristics  peculiar  to  type,  which 
were  followed  shortly  by  the  development  of  indi- 
viduality and  definite — even  strongly  marked — 
personal  attributes. 

As  the  child's  personality  thus  unfolded,  Eve 
began  to  discern  a  fleeting  likeness  that  she  could 
not  identify,  though  she  pondered  over  every  de- 
tail of  feature  and  expression  with  the  trained  per- 
ception of  the  artist.  There  were  tantalizing  mo- 
ments when  the  answer  seemed  within  her  grasp. 
And  then  the  frail  connecting  link  of  memory 
would  break  and  set  her  thoughts  adrift  again. 

This  vague  resemblance  haunted  her  waking 
hours  with  a  dogged  persistence  that  she  could  not 
avoid,  coming  into  her  mind  one  moment  with 
vision-like  clearness  and  fading  utterly  in  the  next. 
It  remained,  strangely  enough,  for  a  fleeting  smile 
to  solve  the  vexing  problem  in  a  way  that  was 
intensely  graphic  and  unmistakable. 


234  EVE,  JUNIOR 

It  was  an  evening  in  early  May.  Skip  Carroll, 
in  one  of  his  tenderly  affectionate  moods,  for  which 
he  never  found  audible  expression,  had  just  re- 
leased Eve  from  a  silent  embrace  and  was  gone  to 
fish  his  nets.  The  girl  fled  to  her  room  and  threw 
herself  across  her  bed  in  a  passion  of  tears.  The 
exhaustion  that  followed  this  outburst  found  slow 
relief  in  solemn  meditation.  For  a  long  interval 
she  lay  thus  with  her  face  in  her  cupped  hands, 
her  elbows  propped  in  front  of  her. 

The  twilight  deepened  into  dusk;  the  room 
grew  dim  with  shadows.  The  evening  was  cool 
and  quiet  with  that  deep  unbroken  stillness  which 
often  marks  the  approach  of  night  by  a  complete 
cessation  of  sound.  The  birds  had  ceased  their 
song  and  chatter.  The  drone  of  insect  life  was 
hushed  and  the  prelude  to  the  hylas'  nightly 
chorus  was  as  yet  unsung.  The  quiet  and  the  utter 
solitude  depressed  Eve  to  the  point  of  melancholy. 
In  a  lighter  mood  she  would  have  experienced  a 
delicious  sense  of  reverent  communion  with  the 
omnipotent  silence  about  her;  as  it  was,  however, 
she  felt  lonely  and  isolated  and  her  heart  craved 
companionship  with  an  earnest,  prayerful  longing. 

The  boy  lay  sleeping  in  his  swinging  basket. 


A  BAFFLING  LIKENESS  235 

Eve  watched  him  intently  and  tried  to  derive  some 
measure  of  comfort  from  his  presence.  But — 
peacefully  asleep  and  unconscious  of  her  as  he 
was — he  seemed  very  detached  and  far  away.  In 
vain  she  tried  to  reconcile  herself  to  her  loneliness, 
and  when  she  could  bear  it  no  longer  she  arose 
hastily  and  gathered  the  child  hungrily  up  in  her 
arms. 

He  awoke  and  blinked  sleepily,  puckering  his 
face  up  in  a  way  that  presaged  a  vociferous  pro- 
test. Then,  as  if  sheer,  irrepressible  good  humor 
dictated  his  mood,  he  smiled  up  into  her  face ;  and 
the  elusive  fact  at  last  dawned  upon  Eve  that  the 
boy  bore  an  amazing  likeness  to — Dr.  Tilghman. 

Toward  the  last  of  May  Eve  decided  that  the 
boy's  scanty  wardrobe  should  be  replenished,  and 
accordingly  she  made  arrangements  to  go  to  town 
with  her  father  on  his  next  trip  to  market  his  fish. 
When. the  day  came  and  they  arrived  at  the  dock 
below  the  fish  market,  Skip  insisted  on  his  daugh- 
ter waiting  for  him  to  dispose  of  his  catch  that  he 
might  go  with  her  to  visit  the  shops.  She  sug- 
gested that  since  the  boy  had  been  left  with  old 
Plum  it  would  be  better  to  expedite  their  return 


236  EVE,  JUNIOR 

by  attending  to  their  respective  errands  coinci- 
dently;  but  the  fisherman  kindly,  though  flatly, 
refused  to  permit  her  to  go  up  town  alone,  tell- 
ing her,  with  a  forced,  half-serious  smile,  that 
he  was  "afeared  the  goblins  would  git  her  ag'in." 

His  evident  distrust  wounded  her;  nor  did  the 
fact  that  she  could  not  well  blame  him  for  enter- 
taining the  suspicion  aid  in  allaying  the  hurt  in 
her  heart.  She  quietly  acceded  to  his  ultimatum 
and  remained  in  the  bateau  until  he  returned  for 
her.  It  was  while  she  was  thus  left  to  her  own 
thoughts  and  devices  that  she  decided  to  include  a 
Bible  among  her  proposed  purchases;  for  as  she 
had  learned  to  read,  her  attention  had  constantly 
reverted  to  this  Book  whose  simple  words  and 
exquisite  phraseology  filled  her  with  reverent  ad- 
miration. 

Skip  returned  shortly  and  together  they  went 
up  Broadway  where  Eve's  list  of  infant  necessi- 
ties was  soon  completed  and  only  the  Bible  re- 
mained unpurchased. 

As  they  entered  "The  Bible  House,"  to  which 
establishment  Eve  piloted  her  father,  Eve  uttered 
a  little,  inarticulate  cry  and  would  have  turned 
and  fled  had  not  her  father's  big  frame  completely 


A  BAFFLING  LIKENESS  237 

blocked  the  doorway.  Unable  to  negotiate  this 
eccentric  design,  she  hid  her  face  on  Carroll's 
broad  chest  for  much  the  same  reason  that  an 
ostrich  buries  its  head  in  the  sand.  For  as  she 
had  entered  the  store  she  came  face  to  face  with 
Dr.  Tilghman  in  the  act  of  leaving  it. 

The  minister,  no  less  startled  than  the  girl  her- 
self, stopped  where  he  was  and  stood  regarding 
the  two  in  the  doorway,  momentarily  speechless 
and  bewildered.  Skip  encircled  his  daughter  with 
a  protecting  arm,  staring  hard  at  the  stranger 
while  his  brain,  keenly  alert,  sought  to  compre- 
hend the  unusual  situation.  As  he  studied  the 
minister's  face  a  tangible  chain  of  circumstantial 
evidence  flashed  through  his  mind  in  unbroken 
continuity.  The  indictment  it  entailed  seemed 
justified;  and  with  an  oath  he  declared  it. 

"By  God!  The  Dad!"  he  cried  and  sprang 
upon  the  minister,  who,  taken  thus  unawares,  fell 
to  the  floor  beneath  the  fisherman's  great  bulk. 

A  clerk  came  hurriedly  out  from  behind  a  coun- 
ter and  made  a  futile  effort  to  pull  Carroll  off  the 
doctor;  but  Skip  held  on  and  paid  no  more  atten- 
tion to  the  perturbed  peacemaker  than  a  mastiff 
would  pay  to  a  Pomeranian.  Eve  stood  by, 


238  EVE,  JUNIOR 

frightened  and  breathless,  but  when  the  clerk  made 
for  the  door  as  if  to  call  for  help  she  grabbed  his 
arm  and  held  on  tightly  while  the  struggle  en- 
sued without  interruption. 

It  was  at  this  stage  that  a  tall,  thin,  well- 
dressed  man  of  middle  age  and  rather  distin- 
guished bearing,  who  was  passing  "The  Bible 
House,"  entered — evidently  attracted  by  the  com- 
motion within.  He  quietly  closed  the  door  and 
stood  unobserved  and  partly  concealed  behind  a 
revolving  book  rack,  watching  the  progress  of  the 
scuffle  with  unfeigned  interest. 

Skip's  primary  advantage  was  short-lived,  how- 
ever. Dr.  Tilghman  recovered  from  his  surprise 
in  time  to  free  himself  of  his  assailant's  clumsy 
hold,  and  by  a  deftly  concerted  effort  he  managed 
to  throw  Carroll  aside.  In  another  instant  he  was 
on  his  feet  again. 

Skip,  too,  arose  quickly,  prepared  to  resume  his 
offensive.  But  Eve  sprang  between  him  and  the 
minister.  She  turned  to  her  father  with  an  angry 
stamp  of  her  foot,  her  eyes  flashing,  her  lips  trem- 
bling with  emotion. 

"Shame  on  you,  Dad!    Are  you  crazy?"  she 


A  BAFFLING  LIKENESS  239 

rebuked  him,  struggling  to  suppress  her  tears  of 
mortification. 

"That's  jus'  what  I  ain't.  The  dam'  critter 
don't  live  that  can  ruin  my  gal  an'  git  clear  of 
it,  makes  no  matter  if  he's  rigged  like  a  parson 
or  a  peddler,"  the  fisherman  cried  wrathfully,  with 
his  blazing  eyes  fixed  upon  the  minister. 

As  Dr.  Tilghman  advanced  toward  Carroll 
without  fear,  the  tall  stranger  behind  the  book 
rack  watched  and  listened  with  attentive  interest- 

"Perhaps  you  will  be  good  enough  to  explain 
the  reason  for  your  evident  antagonism  toward 
me,"  said  the  minister  in  quiet,  even  tones,  meet- 
ing Carroll's  savage  glare  with  eyes  that  did  not 
waver. 

"I  reckon  you  ain't  deef,"  Skip  retorted  hotly. 
"You  heered  what  I  said." 

"I  heard,  but  I  did  not  understand  either  this 
or  your  first  remark,"  Dr.  Tilghman  replied.  Then 
turning  to  the  girl,  "Is  this  your  father,  Eve*?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes !"  she  sobbed,  and  stretched  out  both  hands 
toward  him  in  silent  entreaty.  The  minister  took 
them  in  his  own  and  drew  her  to  him.  "Forgive 
me,  Dr.  Malcom!"  she  begged.  "Something  hap- 


240  EVE,  JUNIOR 

pened  that  night  after  you  went  back  to  the  mis- 
sion and  I  just  had  to  go.  I  couldn't  have  waited 
to  tell  you  and,  oh !  I  was  so  sorry  and  so  unhappy 
and  I  know  how  mean  and  ungrateful  it  seemed 
of  me  and  I  hated  to  think  of  what  you  and  Miss 
Mary  T.  and  Mr.  Piel  would  think  afterwards,  but 
I  just  couldn't  have  stayed  another  minute." 

"But  why,  Eve1?  What  was  it  that  made  your 
going  so  sudden  and  compulsory*?"  the  minister 
asked,  puzzled  by  her  noncommittal  account. 

Carroll  reached  out  and  roughly  separated  them. 

"I  reckon  you  know  nigh  about  as  well's  any- 
body the  whys  an'  wherefores  o'  them  there 
questions  you're  a-askin'  my  gal,"  he  snapped. 
"S'pose'n  you  confine  your  remarks  to  the  more 
inter-restin'  subjec'  of  what  you're  a-goin'  t'  do 
about  it  an'  don't  take  too  long  a-makin'  up  your 
mind,  neither.  You  been  a-backin'  an'  a-fillin'  an' 
a-luffin'  long  enough.  Now  jus  you  git  headed  off 
on  a  straight  tack  t'  wind'ard  a-fore  the  goin'  gits 
too  rough.  I'm  right  patient  an'  peaceful  inclined 
but  I  don't  lay  to  an'  see  no  hurt  done  t'  me  an' 
mine  'thout  comin'  back  hot  an  'heavy." 

"Dad,"  Eve  protested,  "the  minister  hasn't  got 


A  BAFFLING  LIKENESS          241 

anything  to  do  with  this.  He  doesn't  even  know 
what  you're  talking  about." 

Carroll  laughed  derisively. 

"Oh,  he  don't,  hey*?  It's  dam'  funny  how  a 
woman' 11  allus  take  up  for  the  onery  critter  what's 
scuttled  her  reputation  and  struck  out  for  the  shore 
hisself,  a-leavin'  her  t'  sink  or  swim.  Don't  know 
what  I'm  a-talkin'  about,  hey?  Maybe  he'd  kind 
o'  ketch  on  if  he  was  t'  take  a  leetle  squint  at  the 
kid  ye  brung  back  with  ye,  Eve." 

"Kid!"  Dr.  Tilghman  echoed  and  repeated  as 
if  he  doubted  his  hearing.  "Kid !" 

"Yes,  kid!  Dam'  ye,  kid!"  reiterated  the 
wrathful  fisherman.  "The  very  born-in-the-flesh, 
bred-in-the-bone,  dyed-in-the-wool,  livin',  breath- 
in',  spit  image  of  ye.  The  moment  I  laid  eyes 
on  ye  I  knowed  who  his  dad  was,  an*  if  you 
ain't  him  then  eyes  an'  horse  sense  ain't  no  use  t' 
me.  Why,  man,  that  there  boy  looks  as  much 
like  you  as  a  model  does  the  boat  what's  built 
offen  it." 

The  minister,  amazed  and  bewildered,  turned, 
incredulous,  to  Eve  for  corroboration  or  denial. 
But  to  his  utter  astonishment  she  burst  into  tears 


242  EVE,  JUNIOR 

and  confirmed  the  truth  of  her  father's  assertion 
with  a  guilty  nod  of  acquiescence. 

"A  baby,  you  say?  A  real  live  baby?"  Dr. 
Tilghman  repeated,  as  if  to  test  his  hearing  with 
his  own  voice. 

"Yep;  that  there's  jus'  what  I  sayed — a  baby 
— a  reg'lar,  live,  squallin',  hungry,  suckin'  baby 
what  looks  a  heap  sight  more  like  his  dad  than  any 
leetle  son-of-a-seacock  that  ever  I  seen." 

"But,  Dad,"  interrupted  Eve  through  her  tears, 
"the  minister  isn't  his  father.  I  tell  you  he  doesn't 
know  a  thing  in  the  world  about  it.  Can't  you  see 
that  he  doesn't?" 

"He's  gaffin'  an*  so' re  you,"  snarled  Skip  hotly. 
"Anyways,  if  he  ain't  his  dad — an'  two  peas  never 
looked  more  alike — then  who  in  Kingdom  Come 
is?* 

"I— I  don't  know,"  faltered  Eve.  "I  don't 
know  anything  about  it." 

Carroll  threw  up  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  fu- 
tility, while  Dr.  Tilghman  looked  blankly  from 
one  to  another. 

"What?"  he  exclaimed  sharply. 

Eve  turned  upon  him  with  a  stamp  of  her  foot. 
Her  eyes  flashed  in  sudden  anger. 


A  BAFFLING  LIKENESS  243 

"So  you  think  he's  mine,  too,  do  you?"  she  cried 
passionately,  quick  to  resent  the  apparent  implica- 
tion of  his  tone  and  manner. 

Skip's  laugh  was  ironical. 

"I  reckon  he  don't  have  t'  think,"  he  interjected 
with  bitter  sarcasm  as  he  turned  to  the  minister, 
adding,  "Well,  Mister  Parson,  I'm  a-gettin'  al- 
mighty impatient  an'  nervous  like  with  waitin'. 
What  do  you  calkilate  on  doin'  by  my  leetle  gal*?" 

Eve  started  to  speak  but  Dr.  Tilghman  inter- 
rupted her. 

"Some  very  serious  misunderstanding  exists  be- 
tween us;  that  is  evident,"  said  he  in  quiet  tones. 
"I  know  nothing  whatever  about  the  child.  It  is 
certainly  not  mine  and  I  am  equally  certain  that 
it  is  not  Eve's.  However,  the  evening  your  daugh- 
ter disappeared  I  asked  her  to  marry  me  and  if 
that  is  what  you  wish  and  she  is  willing  nothing 
would  give  me  more  pleasure.  I  love  her  and  re- 
gardless of  this  seeming  difficulty  I  would  rather 
have  her  for  my  wife  than  any  woman  in  the 
world." 

The  stranger  behind  the  book  rack  seemed  espe- 
cially pleased  with  this  confession.  A  slow  smile 
spread  over  his  lean,  arrogant  face.  The  clerk 


244  EVE,  JUNIOR 

had  retired  to  his  counter,  where  he  remained  an 
interested  spectator. 

"Then  you  are  the  dad,  hey*?"  the  fisherman 
craftily  suggested. 

Eve  turned  upon  her  father  with  the  swift  grace 
of  an  avenging  tigress. 

"Dad,  I  could  kill  you  for  that,  though  I  love 
you,"  she  cried  in  a  paradox  of  filial  devotion  to 
her  father  and  loyalty  to  the  minister.  "You 
heard  him  say  that  it  was  not  his  child.  Well, 
of  course  it  isn't,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  It's 
not  his;  do  you  hear?  He  never  saw  it  or  heard 
of  it  or  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  And  it's  not 
mine,  either.  I  know  whose  it  is  but  I  won't  tell — 
now  or  ever.  So  there !" 

"That's  a  real  likely  yarn,  that  there  is,"  Skip 
commented  with  a  bitter  smile.  "How  the  devil 
do  you-all  'count  for  this  here  parson  a-lookin'  so 
infernal  like  the  block  offen  that  there  chip  to 
home,  if  they  ain't  neither  one  relationed,  hey*?"  . 

"It  is,  indeed,  an  unusual  coincidence,"  Dr. 
Tilghman  admitted  thoughtfully  and  without  re- 
sentment toward  his  accuser. 

"It's  one  o'  them  there  'incidents/  as  you  call  it, 
that  helps  t*  make  the  world  a  heap  sight  more  on- 


A  BAFFLING  LIKENESS          245 

comfortable  for  some  of  us  than  it  mought  be," 
drawled  Skip  warningly;  then  turning  to  his 
daughter,  "Eve,  you  git  that  there  Bible  book  ye 
come  for  an'  we  three  on  us  will  be  a-headin'  for 
Bodkin,  'cause  the  parson's  a-goin'  along  t'  have 
a  peep  at  the  chip  ye  brung  back  with  ye.  Maybe 
it'll  kind  o'  help  him  to  re-collect  some  things  he's 
forgot," 

Dr.  Tilghman  gave  Carroll  one  swift,  search- 
ing glance. 

"I'll  go  with  you!"  he  said. 

Five  minutes  later  the  tall,  lean  stranger  of 
rather  distinguished  bearing  and  uncertain  age  en- 
tered the  editorial  rooms  of  the  Herald  with  a 
long,  swinging  stride  and  an  easy  grace  and  fa- 
miliarity of  manner  that  demanded  instant  recog- 
nition. A  busy  office  assistant  gave  him  imme- 
diate attention. 

"City  editor,  Mr.  Trapnell,"  snapped  the  visi- 
tor briefly. 

"Sorry,  sir,  you'll  have  to  wait.  He's  getting 
out  the  last  edition,"  was  the  clerk's  reply. 

''Can't  help  it;  got  to  see  him  at  once,"  the 
stranger  asserted  as  he  pushed  the  clerk  aside  with 


246  EVE,  JUNIOR 

an  imperious  hand  and  made  for  the  door  of  the 
"city"  office. 

The  man  at  the  desk  accorded  him  a  nervous, 
upward  glance  and  frowned  at  the  intrusion. 
When  he  saw  who  it  was,  however,  he  managed 
to  force  a  smile  of  greeting  to  mask  his  evident 
annoyance. 

"Oh,  hello,  Dillon!"  he  ejaculated  tersely. 
"Who  let  you  in?" 

"Let  myself  in,"  was  Dillon's  equally  terse 
reply. 

He  drew  up  a  chair  and  seated  himself  while 
the  editor  frowned  and  regarded  him  with  im- 
patient expectancy.  Dillon  leaned  forward,  con- 
centrated his  attention  on  the  man  at  the  desk  and 
began. 

"Do  you  want  a  'scoop'*?"  he  said  abruptly. 

"A  'scoop' !  At  this  hour?"  the  editor  nervously 
glanced  at  his  watch.  "Last  edition  goes  to  press 
in  twenty-eight  minutes.  No!  Haven't  got 
time." 

"Take  time !"  snapped  Dillon  coolly.  "Hold  a 
half  column  open  and  run  it  through  at  the  last 
moment.  This  is  sensational.  It's  a  clean  'beat' 
and  the  other  papers  can't  touch  it  because  nobody 


A  BAFFLING  LIKENESS  247 

has  gotten  it — yet.  Do  you  want  it"?  I  brought 
it  to  you  because  you're  a  friend  of  mine.  The 
World  would  be  dam'  glad  to  get  it." 

"Shoot!  What  is  it?"  asked  Trapnell,  weak- 
ening under  the  threat. 

"It's  about  the  Reverend  Doctor  Tilghman — 
you  know,  Malcom  Courtney  Tilghman,  Mount 
Vernon  Place,  St.  Johns,  'The  Anchorage,'  and  so 
forth,  and  chief  witness  for  the  grand  jury  investi- 
gation and  all  that.  A  Bodkin  fisherman  just  ac- 
cused him  of  ruining  his  daughter.  Heard  the 
whole  story  a  minute  ago  right  around  the  corner 
here.  Got  the  goods  on  him  dead,  looks  like.  Do 
you  want  it1?" 

"Have  you  got  names,  dates,  places,  substantia- 
tion?" 

"No,  but  I  saw  and  heard  the  whole  thing,  I 
tell  you.  Put  it  in  as  alleged  material  and  get 
your  own  substantiations." 

The  city  editor  tapped  his  desk  nervously. 

"Can't  do  that,"  he  objected.  "Dr.  Tilghman 
is  a  minister  of  the  highest  standing.  The  people 
idolize  him.  Old  family,  too.  Ruin  him  if  it 
was  true  and  us  if  it  wasn't." 

"Needn't  worry  about  that.     It's  true  enough, 


248  EVE,  JUNIOR 

all  right.  Just  a  lucky  coincidence  that  I  happened 
to  be  passing  and  heard  the  row.  Some  scene! 
The  parson's  an  all-around  good  scrapper,  I'll  give 
him  that." 

"Seems  to  be  a  personal  matter  with  you,"  the 
editor  suggested  narrowly. 

"It  is.     Are  you  going  to  print  it*?" 

"Not  to-night.  It's  too  hazy  and  there's  not 
enough  time,  anyway." 

Dillon  glared. 

"Don't  want  to  lose  Sauerwine  Brewing  Com- 
pany's cad,'  do  you?"  he  snapped,  his  jaws  click- 
ing together  ominously. 

"What,  full-page  weekly?  Not  much!  Why?" 

"Better  print  that  half  column  then — to-night," 
Dillon  drawled  quietly. 

"Why?" 

"Well,  because  their  advertising  manager  hap- 
pens to  be  one  of  my  ward  executives,  that's  all." 

The  editor  frowned. 

"Now  look  here,  Dillon,  I  won't  be  bully- 
ragged like  that.  If  I  think  we  can  safely  print 
this  matter  it'll  be  printed.  If  I  don't,  it  won't." 

"Well?"  Dillon  encouraged,  smiling  his  pe- 
culiar, sardonic,  self-satisfied  smile. 


A  BAFFLING  LIKENESS  249 

"Well — "  the  editor  hesitated  a  moment,  then 
read  the  politician's  expression  and  uncondition- 
ally surrendered.  "I'll  print  it.  Time's  short. 
Dictate  it  to  my  stenographer  and  I'll  whip  it  into 
shape  before  the  forms  are  closed." 

And  Dillon,  turning  to  the  young  woman  at  the 
typewriter  with  the  light  of  victory  in  his  eyes, 
began  to  speak  rapidly. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    SEQUEL    OF    A    RETROSPECT 

As  the  bateau  chugged  noisily  southward  the  min- 
ister, with  Eve's  permission,  related  to  Skip  much 
concerning  his  daughter's  stay  at  the  Mount  Ver- 
non  Place  apartment.  The  girl,  meanwhile,  sat 
silent  and  thoughtful,  but  at  the  conclusion  of  his 
account  she  resolved  to  add  to  it  her  own  graphic 
description  of  Johnson's  duplicity  and  their  flight 
together  the  night  of  her  disappearance  from  the 
island. 

Since  McLean  had  indicated  his  feelings  in  re- 
gard to  the  unexplained  episode  of  the  book  and 
the  mate's  culpability  was  proven,  there  was  no 
longer  any  reason  for  her  to  remain  silent.  And 
the  account  she  gave  of  that  eventful  night  elicited 
great  oaths  of  vengeance  from  the  infuriated  fish- 
erman, who  recalled  with  savage  regret  that  Mc- 
Lean had  told  him  of  Johnson's  resignation  from 
the  government  service. 

But  of  the  night  on  which  she  returned  to  the 
250 


THE  SEQUEL  OF  A  RETROSPECT     251 

island  Eve  had  nothing  to  say ;  nor  did  their  con- 
certed efforts  prevail  upon  her  to  break  the  abso- 
lute silence  she  maintained  upon  the  subject.  The 
events  of  the  interval  between  the  time  Dr.  Tilgh- 
man  left  her  to  reenter  the  mission  and  the  hour 
of  her  arrival  on  the  island  were  locked  in  the  in- 
nermost recesses  of  her  heart  to  spare  a  woman's 
honor  and  sacrifice  her  own,  if  need  be,  because  of 
a  latent  duty  toward  that  woman  which  her  Puri- 
tanical conscience  unremittingly  imposed  upon 
her. 

Plum  met  them  at  the  door  of  the  shack  with 
the  child  in  his  arms.  The  little  fellow  had  awak- 
ened and  cried  for  his  bottle,  he  said,  and  then  had 
consistently  refused  to  go  to  sleep  again. 

The  minister  regarded  the  boy  with  circumspect 
attention  while  the  fisherman,  in  turn,  was  no  less 
attentive  to  every  emotion  which  Dr.  Tilghman 
might  meanwhile  betray.  Plum  was  respectfully 
curious,  the  significance  of  the  procedure  falling 
beyond  the  scope  of  his  intelligence.  The  minister 
turned  gravely  to  Carroll. 

"The  little  chap  certainly  does  resemble  me," 
he  admitted.  "The  likeness  is  remarkable  and 
unaccountable.  I  don't  understand  it  except,  of 


252  EVE,  JUNIOR 

course,  as  I  said  before,  that  it  is  an  unusual  co- 
incidence. I  cannot  blame  you  for  the  attitude  you 
have  taken  because  I  can  appreciate  how  you  feel. 
But  Eve  has  told  you  the  truth :  it  is  not  my  child 
and  it  is  not  hers.  Knowing  her  as  I  do  I  know 
that  it  is  utterly  impossible  that  it  could  be." 

Skip  regarded  the  doctor  dubiously.  But  soon 
his  innate  friendliness  asserted  itself  in  spite  of 
the  misgivings  he  entertained. 

"Come  in  an'  set  a  spell,"  he  said  with  a  hos- 
pitable, welcoming  wave  of  his  hand  toward  the 
living  room,  and  the  minister  entered.  "Have  a 
cheer,"  he  added  graciously,  indicating  the  Chip- 
pendale heirloom.  "Eve,"  he  continued,  turning 
to  his  daughter,  "you  mought  skeer  up  a  leetle  bite 
for  the  parson.  This  here  salt  air's  got  a  turn  for 
makin'  city  folks  hongry." 

"A  fine  old  table  you  have  here,"  Dr.  Tilgh- 
man  remarked,  running  an  appreciative  eye  over 
the  slim,  graceful  lines  of  the  confrere  to  the  Chip- 
pendale chair. 

"My  father  brung  it  with  him  from  the  other 
side — England — I  reckon,"  Skip  explained  briefly. 

"England,  indeed,"  the  minister  commented 
with  growing  interest.  Suddenly  he  looked  up  at 


THE  SEQUEL  OF  A  RETROSPECT      253 

Skip.     "By  the  way,  sir,  may  I  ask  your  name?" 

"You  mought.  'Skip'  Carroll's  my  name — 
Tilghman  Skipworth  Carroll,  sir." 

"That  is  odd,"  mused  the  minister.  "My  name 
is  Tilghman  and  my  grandmother  was  a  Carroll. 
I  wonder  if  it  is  possible  that  you  are  in  any  way 
related  to  the  Carrolls  and  Tilghmans  of  Sus- 
sex?" 

"Never  heered  o'  the  place,"  the  fisherman  re- 
plied without  interest. 

"I  have  a  number  of  cousins  living  there,"  the 
minister  continued.  "My  grandparents  came  to 
this  country  in  1833,  shortly  after  grandfather 
was  stripped  of  his  knighthood  for  sympathizing 
with  the  leaders  of  a  minor  revolt  in  Ireland.  My 
aunt,  his  only  daughter,  a  girl  of  perhaps  twenty, 
went  to  England  in  the  early  '5o's  and  married  Sir 
Edward  Carroll  of  Arundel  Hall,  Sussex. 

"This  alliance  greatly  displeased  the  Court  and 
when  several  months  later  it  was  discovered  that 
Sir  Edward  was  in  secret  communication  with 
certain  Irishmen  interested  in  the  Sinn  Fein  move- 
ment, he  was  indicted  for  treason  and  deputies 
were  despatched  from  London  to  arrest  him.  News 
of  the  indictment  reached  him,  however,  through 


254  EVE,  JUNIOR 

some  inner  channels,  and  when  the  officers  ar- 
rived they  found  that  he  had  fled  from  Portsmouth 
in  one  of  his  own  East  Indiamen,  taking  only  such 
of  his  effects  as  he  and  his  wife  could  secrete 
amongst  their  luggage." 

"What  become  o'  the  ship1?"  asked  Carroll,  cas- 
ually curious  to  hear  the  rest  of  the  story. 

"Several  vessels  reported  her  in  mid  Atlantic 
bound  west  but  there  seems  to  be  no  record  of  her 
ever  having  reached  a  port.  It  was  about  this 
time  that  my  grandparents  died  and  my  father 
was  the  only  immediate  heir.  It  is  strange  that 
this  table  should  have  prompted  me  to  ask  your 
name — and  that,  too,  is  rather  a  remarkable  co- 
incidence— but  my  sister  and  I  made  a  visit  to 
some  distant  relatives  in  Sussex  several  years  ago 
and  the  moment  I  saw  this  piece  of  Chippendale 
I  recalled  a  table  at  Arundel  Hall  which  was  its 
exact  duplicate." 

Eve  was  an  interested  auditor  of  all  that  Dr. 
Tilghman  related  as  she  busied  herself  about  the 
preparation  of  a  simple  meal.  And  when  he  had 
finished  she  told  about  the  burning  of  the  island 
mansion  and  of  Plum's  vague  suggestions  about 
castles  and  drawbridges,  though  Skip  was  inclined 


THE  SEQUEL  OF  A  RETROSPECT      255 

to  make  light  of  that  part  of  her  account.  Plum, 
however,  whom  Eve  called  on  for  corroboration, 
was  very  positive  and  obstinate  in  reiteration  of 
what  he  remembered  in  this  respect. 

He  described  his  former  master. and  mistress 
with  a  degree  of  minuteness  that  would  have  been 
tiresome  but  for  his  eccentricities  of  speech  and 
manner.  He  laid  particular  stress  upon  his  recol- 
lection of  the  elder  Carroll  addressing  his  wife  as 
"my  Lady"  and  her  frequent  reference  to  her  hus- 
band as  "my  Lord."  When  questioned  further, 
however,  the  old  negro  developed  a  peculiar  reti- 
cence to  talk  and  had  little  more  to  say  in  regard 
to  the  matters  under  discussion,  betaking  himself 
to  his  quarters  at  the  first  opportunity. 

Meanwhile,  Dr.  Tilghman  studied  the  old  table 
top  thoughtfully,  feeling  of  its  smooth,  dull  sur- 
face with  the  appreciative  touch  of  a  connoisseur. 

"If  this  table  is  like  the  one  at  Arundel  Hall," 
he  reflected  retrospectively,  "it  has  a  double,  hol- 
low leaf,  the  lower  part  of  which  can  be  slid  half 
way  out,  revealing  a  shallow,  inner  recess  much 
like  a  drawer.  This  little  hollow  is  so  padded 
that  the  compartment  cannot  be  detected  by  tap- 
ping on  the  table-top  and  the  sliding  leaf  can  only 


256  EVE,  JUNIOR 

be  released  by  the  removal  of  a  dowel  which  is 
quite  invisible  while  in  place.  No  doubt  Chip- 
pendale turned  out  numerous  pieces  of  furniture 
of  the  same  design  and  since  this  table,  unless  I 
am  very  much  mistaken,  is  exactly  like  the  one 
in  Sussex,  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  it,  too,  con- 
tained the  same  little  compartment,  though  I 
haven't  the  slightest  idea  how  to  detect  it." 

Eve,  laughing  and  curious,  got  down  on  her 
hands  and  knees  to  inspect  the  under  side  of  the 
heirloom  which  had  suddenly  become  imbued  with 
romantic  possibilities.  The  very  fact  that  it 
was  the  counterpart  of  a  table  in  a  great  old  man- 
sion across  the  sea  was,  to  her  mind,  both  interest- 
ing and  impressive;  but,  when  added  to  this  it 
gave  incipient  promise  of  developing  secret  hiding 
places,  it  became  a  veritable  sphinx  of  silent  mys- 
tery which  it  was  her  appointed  office  to  solve  and 
dispel. 

The  edge  of  the  table-top  was  marked  with  a 
double  bead  around  its  entire  circumference,  mak- 
ing it  impossible  to  discern  the  presence  of  a  seam 
or  joint,  if  there  was  one,  while  the  under  side 
presented  the  usual  well  finished  appearance  of 
fine  cabinet  work.  There  was  nothing  in  the  ex- 


THE  SEQUEL  OF  A  RETROSPECT      257 

ternal  appearance  of  the  whole  to  suggest  an  inner 
recess  and  after  much  minute  exploration,  at  which 
Skip  was  somewhat  inclined  to  jeer,  Eve  reluc- 
tantly admitted  failure  and  gave  up  the  effort, 
not  a  little  chagrined.  .But  all  the  while  she  busied 
herself  preparing  the  food  and  laying  the  cloth 
her  thoughts  were  burrowing  between  the  old 
table-leaves — for  her  vivid  imagination  had  been 
fired  with  the  spirit  of  romanticism. 

Soon  after  the  repast  had  been  disposed  of  Car- 
roll took  Dr.  Tilghman  across  the  river  in  his 
bateau  and  set  him  ashore  at  North  Point,  where 
he  could  get  a  trolley  for  town. 

On  the  whole  Skip  was  inclined  to  believe  Dr. 
Tilghman,  for  the  minister's  frank  speech  and  ac- 
tions made  doubt  seem  less  credible.  Nor  did  he 
doubt  Eve  more.  It  was  merely  that  her  position 
in  the  matter  was  past  his  understanding.  It 
was  beyond  the  bounds  of  plausibility  for  him  to 
conceive  that  his  daughter  might  take  it  upon  her- 
self to  protect  some  one  other  than  Dr.  Tilghman 
or  herself  for,  so  far  as  he  could  see,  no  one  else 
was  concerned.  The  minister  had,  himself,  given 
a  definite  account  of  Eve's  life  and  associations 
while  in  town  and  there  was  nothing  to  indicate 


258  EVE,  JUNIOR 

that  she  might  have  formed  a  friendship  so  strong 
that  she  would  thus  sacrifice  herself  for  its  sake. 

So  that  though  there  were  many  combinations 
of  circumstance  which  did  not  include  Dr.  Tilgh- 
man  in  culpability,  there  was  none  which  seemed 
reasonably  to  exclude  Eve. 

Still  pondering,  Carroll  turned  his  boat  away 
from  North  Point  and  steered  for  the  open  bay. 
As  he  passed  down  along  the  west  shore  where 
his  nets  reached  out  into  deep  water  he  noticed  a 
slim,  white  hulled,  yellow  funnelled  steamer 
climbing  slowly  over  the  southern  horizon.  At 
first  glance  she  looked  vaguely  familiar  but  the 
distance,  added  to  her  low  visibility,  made  it  im- 
possible to  recognize  her  and  before  she  was  near 
enough  to  make  out  it  had  grown  quite  dark. 

It  was  well  toward  seven  o'clock  when  Dr. 
Tilghman  arrived  in  town.  As  he  alighted  from 
a  car  at  Monument  Street  and  turned  eastward 
toward  Mount  Vernon  Place  one  of  the  leading 
members  of  the  Guild  passed  him  and  replied  to 
his  usual,  gracious  salutation  with  a  cool,  curt  nod 
that  made  him  turn  and  look  after  her  to  assure 
himself  that  he  had  not  mistaken  a  stranger  for 
one  of  his  most  devout  parishioners. 


THE  SEQUEL  OF  A  RETROSPECT      259 

Pondering  over  this  untoward  incident  he  was 
presently  accosted  by  a  newsboy  from  whom  he 
bought  a  Herald.  Turning  first  to  the  local  news 
on  the  back  page,  as  was  his  custom,  he  glanced 
cursorily  over  the  headlines  until  his  eyes  fell 
upon  an  item  which  arrested  his  attention  with 
the  shock  of  its  import  and  brought  him  to  a  stand- 
still while  he  read  the  half  column  that  followed. 

The  glaring  headline  announced:  "Prominent 
Pastor  Accused  by  Fisherman." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  RETURN  OF  THE  IRIS 

EVE  had  given  the  boy  his  bottle  and  made  him 
comfortable  for  the  night.  And  now  she  was  her- 
self preparing  to  retire  when  she  was  startled  by 
the  distant  rattle  of  anchor  chains.  Slipping  into 
her  night  gown  she  put  out  the  light  and  went  to 
the  window. 

Even  in  the  darkness  Eve  recognized  the  Iris 
and  her  heart  gave  a  little  quickening  leap  that 
sent  a  thrill  dancing  through  her  and  set  her  pulses 
pounding  with  suppressed  expectancy. 

Soon  a  footstep  on  the  graveled  road  caught 
her  ear.  And  as  Tip  barked  from  the  doorsill 
where  he  lay  and  ran  to  greet  the  visitor,  Eve 
started,  listening  intently.  The  footstep  was 
strangely  familiar.  The  dog  barked  sharply  as 
he  ran,  then  stopped  and  whined  a  welcome.  A 
masculine  voice  acknowledged  his  greeting  and  the 
footsteps  continued. 

Eve's  heart  gave  a  joyous  leap.  In  the  same 
260 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  IRIS      261 

instant,  all  unmindful  of  her  bare  feet  and  cling- 
ing night  gown,  she  ran  to  the  living  room  door 
with  her  hair  falling  to  her  slim,  lithe  waist  in 
a  riot  of  dusky  ringlets.  On  the  impulse  of  the 
moment,  oblivious  to  the  impropriety  of  her  act, 
she  flung  the  door  wide  open  and  stood  framed  in 
the  darkened  aperture,  a  welcoming  Hebe  in  filmy 
white. 

The  indistinct  figure  in  the  path  stopped  short 
with  a  deeply  indrawn  breath.  For  a  moment  Mc- 
Lean stood  as  if  petrified  while  Tip  leaped  play- 
fully about  him.  Eve  laughed,  a  silvery,  tinkling 
euphony  of  happiness  that  fell  upon  the  ears  of 
her  startled  auditor  with  all  the  charm  of  dis- 
tance-softened chimes. 

"Are  you  afraid  of  me,  too*?"  she  chided  gaily, 
and  in  that  instant  knew  with  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  embarrassment  the  limitations  of  her  at- 
tire. 

Her  hastily  attempted  retreat  met  with  inop- 
portune hindrance,  however.  As  she  spoke  Mc- 
Lean was  on  the  step  before  her  and  his  out- 
stretched arms  encircled  her  and  drew  her  to  him 
in  a  tenderly  passionate  embrace. 

For  a  brief  interval  she  struggled  vainly  to  free 


262  EVE,  JUNIOR 

herself  but  his  clasp  was  as  irresistible  as  the  emo- 
tion which  prompted  it.  Her  face  crushed  against 
his  breast  grew  hot  with  shame,  her  eyes  flashed 
fierce  resentment.  Every  atom  of  her  being  re- 
sponded to  her  aid  in  a  futile  effort  of  resistance. 

And  then  of  a  sudden  as  she  felt  his  warm, 
quick  breath  upon  her  flaming  cheek,  she  remem- 
bered his  kiss  on  the  wharf  that  day  and  a  tur- 
bulent flood  of  elemental  passion  swept  through 
her  in  a  mighty  torrent  of  awakening  desire.  Mc- 
Lean felt  her  supple  body  grow  limp  in  his  arms. 
Her  eyes  closed  languidly.  Her  full,  red  lips  fell 
apart  ever  so  little  as  she  smiled.  A  slim,  white 
arm,  bare  to  the  shoulder,  slipped  furtively  about 
his  neck  and  drew  his  face  down  toward  her  own. 

McLean  reluctantly  released  her,  his  arms  lin- 
gering tenderly  about  her  until  she  forcibly  with- 
drew and  fled  in  blushing  precipitation  to  the  wel- 
come retirement  of  her  room.  There  Eve  dropped 
to  her  knees  beside  her  bed  and  buried  her  hot, 
shamed  face  in  her  folded  arms.  McLean  hesi- 
tated on  the  threshold  for  an  uncertain  moment, 
then  entered  and  groped  his  way  through  the  dark- 
ness to  her  bedroom  door,  which  in  her  haste  she 
had  left  ajar. 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  IRIS      263 

"Eve — Eve!"  he  called  softly  through  the 
aperture,  his  low  voice  vibrant  with  emotion. 

The  girl  sprang  to  her  feet,  half  frightened, 
half  pleased  by  his  solicitous  pursuit. 

"Please  go  now,"  she  whispered,  fearful  of  wak- 
ing the  child.  "I'll  meet  you  at  the  wharf  in  the 
morning." 

"But  why  waste  to-night,"  McLean  objected; 
"I  love  you,  and  to-morrow  is  ages  away.  Come 
back  to  the  doorstep  where  I  found  you,  Eve. 
There  will  never  be  another  such  night  as  this  in 
all  our  lives.  We  can't  afford  to  let  it  go.  Come; 
let's  take  the  happiness  it  offers.  Girl!  Please 
come !  Dress,  if  you  will,  but  come !" 

"Not  to-night.  It  is  late.  You  should  not  be 
here  at  all.  I'm  sorry  you  saw  me  so — so  un- 
dressed. I  heard  your  footstep  and  it  made  me 
forget  and  before  I  knew  what  I  was  doing  I  was 
at  the  door  and  then — I'm  ashamed  of  myself, 
Douglas.  I  don't  know  what  in  the  world  you'll 
think  of  me.  Forgive  me,  if  you  can,  and  go  back 
to  the  Iris"  Eve  pleaded. 

"There's  nothing  to  forgive,  Eve,  but  I  can't 
leave  you  yet.  Surely  you  must  understand.  All 
these  long  months  I  have  loved  you  and  wanted 


264  EVE,  JUNIOR 

you  and  thought  that  I  had  lost  you — that  you 
were  gone.  And  now  that  I've  found  you  again 
I  can't  give  you  up  even  until  to-morrow  without 
a  word.  If  your  kiss  meant  anything  just  now 
you'll  come  back  to  me,  Eve,  and  tell  me  that 
you'll  be  my  wife." 

"It  meant  everything!"  Eve  impetuously  de- 
clared. "I  love  you  more  than  any  one  in  the 
world,  I  reckon,  but  there  are  reasons  why  I  can- 
not be  your  wife — or  anybody's,  now,  except — 

unless "  She  faltered,  then  stopped  abruptly. 

"I'll  talk  to  you  in  the  morning  but  now,  please, 
please  go,  Douglas.  It  hurts  me  to  ask  you  to,  for 
I  don't  want  you  to,  but  you  must,"  she  entreated. 

McLean  flung  the  door  open,  while  Eve  shrank, 
white  and  nervous,  against  the  picture-covered 
wall. 

"If  you  don't  want  me  to  go,  I  won't!"  he  ex- 
claimed passionately,  as  he  faced  her  in  the  dark- 
ness. 

She  thrust  out  a  trembling  hand  as  if  to  ward 
him  off.  But  he  caught  it  in  his  own  and  drew 
her  to  him,  caressing  her  face  and  neck  and  hair 
with  eager  lips  as  he  folded  her  firm,  resisting  body 
to  his  breast.  Though  she  knew  that  it  was  use- 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  IRIS      265 

less  to  struggle,  she  resolved  not  to  yield  as  she 
had  done  before.  In  a  moment  McLean  recovered 
himself.  He  held  her  off  with  both  hands  while 
his  eyes  searched  her  face  through  the  gloam  of 
the  room. 

"You  say  you  love  me,  Eve,  and  yet  you  send 
me  away  without  a  word,"  he  complained  boy- 
ishly. 

"If  you  loved  me,"  Eve  retorted,  "you  would 
do  as  I  ask  instead  of  coming  into  my  room  at 
this  hour  of  night." 

"Forgive  me,  little  girl,"  McLean  exclaimed 
with  quick  contrition,  "I  just  couldn't  go  without 
some  additional  assurance  of  your  feelings  toward 
me.  You  asked  too  much.  You  made  me  want 
you  in  one  moment  and  in  the  next  you  turned  me 
away." 

"It  was  for  your  good  and  mine.  Now  please 
go,  Douglas.  To-morrow " 

"Tell  me  again  that  you  love  me,"  he  inter- 
rupted fondly. 

"I  love  you  with  all  my  heart,  but " 

"And  that  you'll  be  my  wife,  Eve!" 

"But  I  cannot  marry  you,"  she  concluded. 

"Why?" 


266  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"Because  you  would  not  have  me." 

McLean  stared  at  her,  incredulous. 

"But  I'm  asking  for  you  now,  my  Eve,"  he  told 
her  passionately. 

"Now,  yes,"  Eve  repeated  in  a  tone  of  regret, 
"but  to-morrow  you  will  take  it  back." 

"To-morrow !"  he  echoed,  mystified.  "Never !" 
he  added  emphatically. 

Eve  sighed.  "Plum  says  'never  is  a  long  day.' 
There  are  things  that  you  will  come  to  know  about 
me,  Douglas,  and  then  you'll  change  your  mind. 
I'm  sorry,  but  it's  true — not  the  things  you'll 
think,  but  the  circumstances  that  will  make  you 
think  them.  And  then  nothing  in  the  world  could 
persuade  you  still  to  want  me  for  your  wife." 

"What  nonsense  you  are  talking,  Eve,"  McLean 
exclaimed  with  fond  impatience.  "No  circum- 
stance in  the  world  could  ever  come  between  my 
love  and  you.  You're  in  a  pessimistic  mood  to- 
night. You've  changed,  too,  somehow,  since  I  saw 
you  last.  You  speak " 

"Yes,  I've  changed,"  Eve  interrupted  bitterly. 
"That's  just  what  I  mean — but  you  haven't  found 
out  how.  You  think  it's  the  way  I've  learned  to 
talk — but  it's  more  than  that.  Not  that  I  really 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  IRIS      267 

have  changed  a  bit,  but  when  you  come  to  know 
certain  things  you'll  think  I  have  and  that  will 
make  all  the  difference  in  the  world."  She  stopped 
and  drew  a  long,  deep  breath  and  laid  her  hands 
upon  his  arms  as  he  held  her  gently  by  the  shoul- 
ders. "Do  you  still  love  me4?"  she  asked  quietly. 

For  answer  he  crushed  her  to  him  and  she 
yielded  her  lips  again  and  again  to  the  passion  of 
his  caresses.  Presently,  with  a  gentle  insistence, 
she  drew  away. 

"Go  now,  Douglas — while  you  love  me  and 
respect  me !  Just  for  to-night  I  want  to  know  that 
you  still  feel  toward  me  as  you  did  before  I  went 
away — to  be  able  to  look  back  upon  this  night  as 
the  dearest,  sweetest  memory  of  my  life.  But  if 
you  stay- — but,  no !  You  must  go,  Douglas,  now. 
In  the  morning,  if  you  will  come  to  the 
wharf " 

The  child  stirred  noisily  in  its  swinging  wicker 
basket,  and  McLean  turned  an  apprehensive 
glance  in  the  direction  of  the  sound. 

"What  was  that?'  he  interjected  quickly. 

"Nothing!"  Eve  replied  with  her  heart  in  her 
throat.  "Nothing!  Please,  oh!  please  go,  Doug- 
las!" 


268  EVE,  JUNIOR 

The  boy  moved  again  and  threw  a  chubby  arm 
above  his  head.  The  basket  creaked  and  swayed 
with  the  motion  of  his  little  body.  McLean 
started  perceptibly  as  he  peered  through  the  dark- 
ness. 

"There  is  something  under  that  table,"  he  ex- 
claimed. And  as  he  strode  over  to  investigate  Eve 
frantically  clutched  him  and  sought  in  vain  to  stop 
him. 

McLean  stooped  and  reached  under  the  table, 
recoiling  angrily  as  his  groping  hand  came  in  con- 
tact with  the  child's  soft  arm.  The  boy,  thus 
rudely  disturbed,  registered  a  lusty  protest.  Mc- 
Lean straightened  up  with  a  jerk  and  turned  on 
Eve  with  a  harsh,  mirthless  laugh. 

"So  that's  why  you  were  so  anxious  for  me  to 
go, -was  it1?"  he  muttered  savagely. 

"I  reckon  it  doesn't  matter  much,"  the  girl  re- 
plied wearily  with  a  sob  that  belied  her  words. 
"You  had  to  know  sooner  or  later.  It  may  as  well 
be  now  as  to-morrow  or  some  other  time.  If  you 
think — that — and  I  was  a  fool  to  hope  that  you 
might  think  anything  else — well,  it  doesn't  mat- 
ter, now." 

"What  else  is  there  to  think*?"  he  demanded 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  IRIS      269 

brokenly.  "You  haven't  told  me  a  word,  Eve, 
either  of  why  you  went  or  where  you've  been." 

The  girl's  short  laugh  was  full  of  bitter  irony. 

"And  now  I  don't  have  to.  It's  all  too  clear, 
isn't  it?"  she  taunted  wantonly  as  she  bent  over 
the  crying  child  and  gently  soothed  him  back  to 
sleep. 

McLean  stared  at  her  in  silence. 

"You're  just  like  all  the  rest  of  them,"  she  con- 
tinued in  the  same  hard,  indifferent  tone.  "It's 
all  so  simple  that  you  couldn't  be  mistaken,  could 
you?  I  went  away  last  June;  I  came  back  in 
March  and  brought  this  baby  with  me.  Oh,  there's 
only  one  answer  to  that,  I  know.  I  don't  blame 
you.  If  I'd  say  it  wasn't  my  baby  and  you'd  ask 
me  whose  it  was  and  I'd  refuse  to  tell  you,  you'd 
look  at  me  kind  of  funny  like  you  wanted  me  to 
know  that  you  knew  that  I  was  lyin',  only  you 
were  too  nice  to  say  so,  and  then  you'd  laugh  and 
go  'way  thinking  just  what  you're  thinking  now. 
Well,  I  won't  give  you  a  chance  to  laugh.  You 
can  just  keep  on  thinking  what  you  already  do 

and "  Her  voice  broke  in  a  sob.  Her  hand 

sought  her  throat  to  relieve  the  tightness  that  had 


270  EVE,  JUNIOR 

clutched  it.  She  struggled  for  speech.  "Good- 
by,"  she  added  breathlessly. 

McLean  stood  quite  still  for  an  uncertain, 
speechless  moment,  endeavoring  to  recover  from 
the  confusion  that  beset  him.  Then  he  hurried  to 
her  side. 

'Tell  me  about  this  child,  Eve,"  he  hastened 
contritely.  "Of  course  it  isn't  yours;  but  where 
did  it  come  from?  Whose  is  it*?  You've  been 
talking  in  riddles  to-night.  I  haven't  been  able  to 
understand  you  at  all." 

"Nobody  has,  since  I  came  back.  But  there's 
nothing  to  tell;  nothing  to  make  you  understand 
any  better  than  you  already  do.  Even  if  you'd 
believe  me  now,  you'd  go  back  to  your  ship  won- 
dering if  I  had  told  you  the  truth.  And  then 
you'd  get  to  thinking  it  over  more  and  more  doubt- 
ful like  every  minute,  and  later  on  you  wouldn't 
believe  me  at  all,  so  I  reckon  you  might  just  as 
well  not  try  to  first  as  last.  Anyway,  after  the 
way  I  ran  out  to  you  a  while  ago,  you  couldn't 
think  much  good  of  me.  That  just  sort  of  fits  in 
with  the  rest  of  it,  don't  it?" 

McLean  caught  her  hand  in  his.  "I'll  believe 
anything  you  say,"  he  asserted  impulsively,  "only 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  IRIS      271 

tell  me  with  your  own  lips  that  it  is  not  your 
child.  I  know  it  isn't  but  I  want  to  hear  you 
say  so." 

"You  wouldn't  believe  me,"  Eve  reiterated 
wearily.  "You'd  want  to  know  more." 

"Tell  me  that  it  is  not!"  he  demanded. 

"It  is  not,"  she  repeated  simply. 

"Well1?"  he  encouraged. 

"That's  all  you  asked  and  that  is  all  I  can  tell 
you.  It's  all  I've  told  any  one.  Now  please  go, 
Douglas.  If  you  can  find  it  in  your  heart  to  be- 
lieve me  after  you've  thought  it  over,  come  back 
to-morrow.  If  you  can't,  don't  come,  please  don't. 
I'd  rather  never  see  you  again  if  you  are  going 
to  think  of  me  in  that  way." 

McLean  kissed  her  passionately. 

"I'll  never  think  of  you  in  any  way  except  the 
way  I've  thought  of  you  since  the  first  time  I  saw 
you,  Eve.  I  love  you  and  I'd  still  love,  even  if  it 
was  your  baby. 

"You  are  beautiful,  Eve,  as  I  see  you  now — 
more  like  a  goddess  than  a  girl — more  like  a  pic- 
ture that  has  lived  in  my  memory — and  always 
will — since  the  hour  I  saw  it.  Of  course,  it  was 
only  a  rare  coincidence,  but  at  first  I  thought  it 


272  EVE,  JUNIOR 

was  really  you.  So  did  Claiborne,  my  assistant, 
who  saw  it  before  I  did.  He  was  in  New  York 
at  the  time,  home  on  a  leave  of  absence.  The 

painting  was  exhibited  at  the Institute, 

unsigned,  undated,  without  anything  that  might 
disclose  its  origin  except  the  likeness  to  the  model 
who  posed  for  it.  Eve,  somewhere  there  must  live 
a  girl  lucky  and  lovely  enough  to  be  your  twin 
sister.  Only  you  or  your  double  could  have  in- 
spired the  unknown  artist  to  paint  a  resemblance 
so  striking.  It  was  called  the  'Birth  of 
Spring' " 

"The  'Birth  of  Spring5 !"  Eve  echoed,  shrink- 
ing away  from  him. 

"Claiborne  read  an  account  of  the  stir  the  pic- 
ture was  creating  and  went  to  see  it,"  McLean  con- 
tinued. "Of  course,  he  had  seen  us  together  last 
summer  and  thought  he  recognized  you  in  the 
painting.  When  he  came  back  to  Washington  he 
told  me  about  it  and  I  caught  the  midnight  train 
and  was  at  the  Institute  when  the  doors  opened  the 
next  morning.  It  was  ten  o'clock  then  and  I  had  to 
return  on  the  ten-twenty-five  in  order  to  be  aboard 
the  Iris  when  she  left  the  Navy  Yard  for  Hatteras 
at  five  that  evening.  Otherwise  I  would  have 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  IRIS      273 

stayed  over  a  few  days  and  endeavored  to  learn 
something  about  the  picture  for,  Eve,  there  were 
moments  while  I  looked  at  it  that  I  felt  certain  it 
couldn't  possibly  be  any  one  but  you — and  yet  it 
was  utterly  impossible  that  it  could  be,  too.  I 
even  found  myself  imagining  that  it  was  imbued 
with  your  personality.  I  could  almost  feel  your 
presence,  your  very  nearness,  just  as  I  can  feel  it 
now.  But  the  picture  was  not  more  beautiful 
than  you  are  at  this  moment.  .  .  .  My  little  Bod- 
kin Eve,  I  love  you!"  And  then  a  mutual  im- 
pulse brought  them  to  each  other's  arms. 

"Leave  me  now,  Douglas,"  Eve  pleaded  all  too 
soon.  "It  wouldn't  make  matters  any  better  for 
Dad  to  come  in  and  find  us  here — this  way — at 
this  hour  of  night." 

"You  haven't  answered  my  question,  Eve,"  Mc- 
Lean hopefully  reminded  her. 

"Yes,  I  have,"  she  replied  with  a  quiet  certitude 
that  bespoke  her  firm  resolve. 

He  studied  her  for  a  silent,  thoughtful  moment 
filled  with  tense  restraint. 

"You're  sacrificing  yourself  to  some  imaginary 
obligation,  girl.  It  isn't  fair  to  our  love." 

"Duty  doesn't  always  seem  fair  but  I  reckon  it 


274  EVE,  JUNIOR 

must  be  or  else  it  wouldn't  be  given  to  us,"  Eve 
told  him.  Then  she  lapsed  abstractly  into  the 
colloquialisms  of  former  days.  "I'm  a-tryin'  to 
do  what  it  'pears  like  God  intended  for  me  to," 
she  said.  "It's  right  hard,  sometimes,  but  I  reckon 
it's  just." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

JUDGE    NOT 

FRIDAY  morning's  mail  brought  Dr.  Tilghman  an 
ultimatum  from  the  board  of  deacons :  Unless  a 
satisfactory  statement  was  in  their  hands  at  the 
close  of  prayer  meeting  Wednesday  night  of  the 
following  week  his  resignation  would  be  demanded 
by  the  board. 

Somehow,  the  context  of  this  communication 
reached  the  Herald,  which  published  it  and  went 
into  details — even  to  the  point  of  predicting  the 
most  probable  outcome  of  the  affair,  namely,  the 
severence  of  Dr.  Tilghman's  connection  with  St. 
John's,  the  failure  of  his  crusade  against  vice  and 
his  ultimate  retirement  from  the  ministry.  Let- 
ters appeared  in  the  open  columns  of  local  papers 
recalling  past  instances  of  preachers  of  the  Gospel 
indulging  in  worldly  practises  and  purporting  to 
demonstrate  the  Biblical  truths  that  the  flesh  is 
275 


276  EVE,  JUNIOR 

weak  and  that  none  is  without  sin.  Having 
quoted,  however,  they  proceeded  to  berate  the  err- 
ing as  "hypocrites"  and  "whited  sepulchers,"  for- 
getful, meanwhile,  that  it  was  also  written  of  them 
and  for  them,  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged. 

But  the  doctor,  reading,  remembered  and  re- 
solved to  make  it  the  text  of  Sunday  morning's 
sermon.  Before  he  had  gone  far  in  the  preparation 
of  it  he  formed  another  resolve.  And  when  he 
had  completed  his  sermons  he  read  them  over  and 
persuaded  his  sister  to  attend  both  services  at  an- 
other church.  He  meant  to  take  up  subjects,  he 
told  her,  which  he  would  feel  more  free  to  handle 
in  her  absence  and  she  readily  assented  to  his 
wish. 

Sunday  morning,  having  disposed  of  the  pre- 
liminary service  and  announcements,  he  proceeded 
with  characteristic  brevity  to  his  text. 

"St.  Matthew,  seventh  chapter,  verses  one  and 
two.  He  stopped  and  leaned  forward,  looking 
out  over  the  congregation,  his  forearms  resting  on 
the  open  Bible,  his  hands  clasped  so  tightly  that 
the  knuckles  showed  white  beneath  the  skin. 

For  a  full  minute  he  rested  thus,  as  if  await- 
ing their  undivided  attention.  His  thoughtful, 


JUDGE  NOT  277 

questioning  eyes  went  from  face  to  face,  frankly 
endeavoring  to  read  what  was  written  there. 

The  result  was  disappointing.  Curiosity,  prej- 
udice, indifference,  antagonism  were  relieved  but 
seldom  by  a  sincere,  smiling  face  whose  owner 
still  maintained  unshaken  faith  against  the  ava- 
lanche of  doubt  which  had  descended  upon  the 
multitude.  A  mist  crept  into  his  eyes  but  his 
voice,  when  he  spoke,  was  firm. 

"It  may  be  that  this  is  the  last  Sabbath  I  shall 
occupy  this  pulpit.  With  this  imminent  possibil- 
ity in  mind  I  have  come  to  you  to-day  prepared  to 
touch  upon  two  great  Scriptural  admonitions.  So 
important  have  I  deemed  them  and  so  necessary 
have  I  regarded  their  complete  assimilation  by  the 
members  of  this  Parish  that  I  shall  make  no  at- 
tempt to  combine  them  in  one  sermon.  This  eve- 
ning's text  will  be  taken  from  First  Corinthians, 
thirteenth  chapter,  part  of  the  fifth  verse :  Charity 
— thinketh  no  evil." 

As  he  thundered  out  the  words  of  Paul  a  hush 
fell  upon  the  house.  For  a  moment  his  hearers 
were  confused,  dumfounded.  The  very  audacity 
of  his  selection  of  texts  was  disconcerting.  How 
dared  he,  a  man  under  grave  charges  to  which  he 


278  EVE,  JUNIOR 

seemed  to  find  no  answer,  cast  such  an  imputation 
into  their  very  faces ! 

They  turned  and  looked  one  at  another,  first 
blankly  and  then  with  growing  consciousness,  some 
flushed  with  guilty  resentment,  some  pale  with 
sudden  anger,  all  inwardly  disturbed  as  by  an  un- 
expected shock.  A  scattered  few  arose  and  left 
the  church,  their  hurried  feet  and  flashing  eyes  be- 
traying their  emotion. 

Silently  the  doctor  awaited  their  departure  and 
the  consequent  readjustment  which  ensued.  And 
then  when  order  was  restored  he  struck  at  the  very 
marrow  of  his  subject  in  a  way  that  made  his 
listeners  sway  to  the  vital  truth  of  his  words. 
In  ten  minutes  they  were  enthralled;  in  twenty 
they  were  subjective  to  the  psychology  of  his  rea- 
soning and  yet  when  he  was  done  he  knew  in- 
stinctively that  he  had  displeased  them,  that  he 
had  been  too  plain,  too  frank,  too  rugged  and  di- 
rect. Morally  they  were  too  soft  and  unseasoned 
for  the  spiritual  trails  he  had  blazed  for  them; 
they  faltered  fearfully  over  the  first  rough  miles 
to  turn  back  wearied  and  with  little  faith.  Dr. 
Tilghman  read  their  expressions  with  a  feeling 
akin  to  anger. 


JUDGE  NOT  279 

"O  ye  of  little  faith,"  he  cried,  "you  are  doubt- 
ers, all  of  you.  You  come  to  church  because  it  is 
a  social  custom,  not  because  it  is  your  Christian 
duty.  You  believe  in  God — if  you  do  believe — 
because  you  fear  eternal  damnation,  not  because 
you  love  His  law.  You  doubt  His  Word,  not  be- 
cause you  doubt  me,  but  because  it  has  become 
your  instinct  to  doubt — because  you  have  taken 
it  upon  yourselves  to  judge  all  things  in  spite  of 
His  warning  to  the  contrary.  All  of  you  have 
education;  many  of  you  have  wealth;  and  be- 
tween the  two  you  have  come  to  regard  yourselves 
as  the  arbiters  of  heaven  and  earth.  You  recog- 
nize no  law  that  interferes  with  your  frivolous  fan- 
cies or  checks  your  temporal  ambitions.  Educa- 
tion, civilization  and  affluence  have  divested  you 
of  all  respect  and  reverence  for  any  law  that  is  not 
immutably  deducible  to  a  mathematical  equation 
or  to  man-made  logic.  The  great  potential  at- 
tributes of  faith  and  trust  have  gone  out  of  you. 
Doubt  me,  if  you  will;  it  matters  little;  but  be- 
lieve, oh,  believe,  I  beseech  you,  in  Him." 

A  door  in  the  vestry  slammed  noisily  as  though 
some  one  had  closed  it  in  haste.  A  wave  of  con- 
sternation swept  through  the  choir  and  overflowed 


280  EVE,  JUNIOR 

into  the  nave.  Necks  were  craned,  spectacles  ad- 
justed, lorgnettes  focussed.  In  a  moment  the 
church  was  filled  as  with  the  drone  of  bees.  Know- 
ing nods  and  winks  were  punctuated  by  occasional 
nervous  titters.  An  old  man  near  the  rear  was 
seized  with  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  coughing;  a 
girl  nearby  giggled  irreverently. 

But  the  doctor  gave  no  heed  to  the  conduct  of 
his  congregation.  His  face  was  pale  and  drawn; 
his  eyes  were  feverish.  His  shoulders  sagged  and 
his  attitude  betokened  utter  weariness.  As  he 
closed  his  eyes  and  raised  his  hands  to  pronounce 
the  benediction  tears  furrowed  his  cheeks  with 
gently  coursing  rivulets;  his  voice  trembled  and 
failed  with  the  closing  words. 

He  stood  quite  still  for  a  moment  while  the 
organ  pealed  forth  the  Recessional  and  the  congre- 
gation arose  to  depart.  Then  he  turned  and  stum- 
bled blindly  from  the  pulpit — and  into  the  out- 
stretched arms  of  Eve. 

"I  just  saw  it  this  morning,"  she  whispered 
brokenly  as  she  led  him  to  a  chair.  "Dad  brought 
a  paper  from  town  and  I — I  read  about  it.  Why, 
oh!  why  didn't  you  tell  them*?" 

Suddenly  she  turned  from  him  and  sprang  up  to 


JUDGE  NOT  281 

the  pulpit,  her  eyes  aglow  with  the  fire  of  her  pur- 
pose. Stretching  forth  her  arms  in  a  gesture  that 
was  at  once  a  supplication  and  a  command,  she 
appealed  to  the  outgoing  throng  with  a  single, 
silvery  word-note: 

"Wait!" 

The  organist  leaned  from  her  keyboard  in 
alarm,  her  instrument  abandoned.  Halted  by  that 
imperious,  pleading  voice,  the  congregation  turned 
and  stood  regarding  Eve  with  wondering  silence. 
Had  Gabriel  called  them  to  the  Resurrection  they 
could  have  been  no  more  astounded.  Eve  awaited 
the  opportune  moment.  The  people  waited,  too. 
The  church  took  on  the  stillness  of  the  tomb. 

"You-all  know  me,"  the  girl  began  in  clear, 
even  tones.  "I  am  Eve  Carroll,  the  fisherman's 
daughter;  but  I  am  not  the  mother  of  the  baby  I 
took  home  with  me  nor  is  your  minister  its  father. 
Dr.  Tilghman  knows  no  more  about  it  than  you- 
all  do.  As  God  is  my  witness  in  His  house,  this 
is  the  truth." 

She  paused  for  breath  and  studied  the  effect  of 
her  words.  Everywhere  she  looked  she  saw  doubt 
and  disbelief.  Their  faces  angered  her.  Right- 
eous indignation  surged  through  her  in  waves  of 


282  EVE,  JUNIOR 

heat  that  brought  a  flush  to  her  cheeks  and  fire  to 
her  brain.  She  stamped  her  foot  and  descended  a 
step  from  the  pulpit  as  if  in  wrath  upon  them. 

"Fools,"  she  cried  bitterly,  "what  sort  of  a 
world  do  you  live  in,  anyway?  What  sort  of 
people  are  you*?  Have  your  men  no  honor,  your 
women-folks  no  virtue,  that  you  dare  to  judge  all 
alike?  Is  there  no  good  in  any  of  you  that  you 
can  see  only  bad  in  every  one  else?" 

Her  voice  faltered.  Words  failed  her.  A  sob 
filled  her  throat  with  pain.  Her  knees  trembled 
and  gave  way  beneath  her.  With  a  little  inarticu- 
late cry  she  sank  upon  the  edge  of  the  pulpit  and 
burst  into  tears. 

The  choir  had  withdrawn  to  the  vestry  room; 
the  organist  followed  them.  But  the  startled  mul- 
titude in  the  nave  gathered  in  little  groups,  mut- 
tering and  whispering  together.  A  little  later  they 
drifted  out  in  twos  and  threes  until  the  last  had 
gone  and  Eve  and  the  minister  were  alone  in  the 
church. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A   FACE  IN   THE  DARK 

LATE  Monday  night  Eve,  once  more  at  Bodkin, 
was  slowly  wakened  by  that  vague,  uncomfortable 
feeling  that  some  one  was  staring  at  her. 

It  came  to  her  first  as  a  dream  that  gradually 
resolved  itself  into  a  subconscious  sensation  and 
finally  developed  into  tangibility  to  be  realized  in 
a  sudden  rush  of  consciousness,  though  it  seemed 
hours  before  she  could  really  rouse  herself  to  a 
state  of  wakeful  comprehension.  She  started  up 
on  her  elbows,  her  eyes  wide  with  terror,  her  heart 
aflutter,  her  lips  parted  in  a  vain  effort  of  out- 
cry. 

A  gray  face  flashed  before  her  in  the  darkness; 
a  skirt  swished  sharply.  Footsteps  hurried  from 
her  bedside  and  a  form  darkened  her  window  in 
passing.  Her  bedroom  door  was  shut  with  a  crash. 
The  intruder  was  gone. 

Eve  sat  up,  shivering  with  fright,  but  her  first 
283 


284  EVE,  JUNIOR 

thought  nerved  her.  In  an  instant  she  had  leaped 
from  the  bed  and  was  bending  over  the  sleeping 
child  in  the  swaying  basket.  And  the  basket  was 
swaying — to  and  fro,  just  as  though  a  hand  had 
but  a  moment  before  set  it  in  motion. 

Without  fear  or  hesitation,  now  that  she  had 
found  her  charge  unharmed,  Eve  darted  upon  the 
trail  of  her  nocturnal  visitor.  At  the  door  she 
paused  to  listen.  The  night  was  still  and  overcast 
with  low-hung  clouds  that  threatened  rain  and 
glowed  dully  with  intermittent  flashes  of  distant 
lightning. 

At  first  there  was  no  sound.  But  as  Eve  stepped 
boldly  out  upon  the  flat  stone  slab  the  bushes  near 
the  willow  parted  and  a  figure  in  black  fled  down 
the  graveled  path  toward  the  mainland.  Bare  of 
foot  and  clad  only  in  her  night-gown,  Eve  swiftly 
followed.  But  the  stones  hurt  her  feet.  She 
could  not  put  forth  her  full  measure  of  speed  and 
the  figure  quickly  outdistanced  her. 

Eve  reached  the  turn  in  the  road  just  in  time  to 
glimpse  the  indistinct  form  splashing  through  the 
shallow  water  across  the  neck.  A  moment  later  it 
faded  into  the  black  shadows  of  the  mainland. 

Eve  descended  to  the  beach  and  strained  her 


A  FACE  IN  THE  DARK  285 

eyes  into  the  darkness  beyond  calling,  "Brookie — 
Brookie " 

But  the  swamp's  echo  only  broke  the  name  into 
a  jeering  laugh  and  flung  it  back  to  her. 

As  she  retraced  her  steps  to  the  shack  she  could 
hear  Tip  whining  plaintively  from  Plum's  quar- 
ters where  the  old  negro  had  shut  the  dog  in  for 
company. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  as  Eve  closed  the 
door  of  the  living-room,  she  felt  for  the  fastening 
and  after  much  straining  at  the  disused,  rust- 
bound  bolt,  slipped  it  into  place.  She  knew  that 
her  father  would  not  be  likely  to  return  before 
sunrise  and  by  that  time  she  would  be  up  prepar- 
ing breakfast. 

The  boy  was  still  sleeping  when  she  got  back 
to  her  room  and  his  basket  still  swayed  ever  so 
little.  Influenced  by  an  unaccountable  fascina- 
tion, she  sat  on  the  edge  of  her  bed  watching  it 
until  the  pendulum-like  motion  had  ceased;  then, 
chilled  by  the  cool  night  air,  she  crawled  into  bed 
and  tucked  the  covers  close  about  her.  But  be- 
fore she  had  fallen  asleep  the  rain  began  to  patter 
down  in  big  drops  that  broke  and  splashed  as  they 
fell.  And  the  wind  swept  out  of  the  northwest 


286  EVE,  JUNIOR 

and  turned  the  shower  into  a  driving  mist  that 
beat  in  through  the  shutters  and  trickled  down  the 
big  chimney  to  the  old  fireplace.  A  wail  arose 
from  the  swamp  and  shrieked  through  the  shack. 
Eve  pulled  the  covers  about  her  ears  in  a  vain 
effort  to  exclude  the  weird,  nerve-racking  sound, 
but  the  boy  awoke  and  added  his  own  small  voice 
to  the  voices  of  swamp  and  storm  and  Eve  took 
him  and  cuddled  him  in  beside  her  and  drew  the 
covers  close  about  them  both. 

The  cries  continued,  increasing  in  volume  as  the 
force  of  the  wind  increased.  It  was  nearly  an 
hour  later  when,  in  the  midst  of  a  shriek  more 
terrifying  than  any  that  had  preceded  it,  there 
came  a  sound  as  of  the  splitting  and  crashing  of 
big  timber  and  the  shriek  died  to  a  moan  that  was 
drowned  by  the  voice  of  the  storm  and  the  cries 
came  no  more.  After  that  the  boy  slept  again, 
but  Eve  lay  wide-eyed  and  wakeful  far  into  the 
morning. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  Eve  heard  her  father's 
footsteps  on  the  gravel.  She  ran  to  the  door  to 
welcome  him,  her  heart  leaping  with  joy,  for  she 
had  begun  to  fear  that  the  storm  had  gone  hard 
with  him.  Her  first  sight  of  him,  however,  filled 


A  FACE  IN  THE  DARK  287 

her  with  solicitous  consternation.  His  left  eye  was 
blackened  and  the  cheek  below  it  so  red  and  swol- 
len that  it  gave  to  his  face  the  appearance  of  a 
huge  boil.  His  clothing  hung  in  rags  and  tatters, 
the  knees  of  his  trousers — or  rather,  where  knees 
had  been — looked  as  though  they  had  been  ground 
out  on  an  emery  wheel.  His  hands  were  scratched 
and  torn  and  the  knuckles  raw  and  clotted  with 
blood. 

"Why,  Dad— Dad!"  cried  Eve  as  she  ran  to 
meet  him. 

The  big  fisherman  grinned  sheepishly — then 
scowled  as  in  bitter  afterthought. 

"I  met  up  with  that  there  feller  what  used  to 
sail  mate  with  McLean,"  he  said  grimly.  "Me  an' 
him  had  a  leetle  argyment." 

"But,  Dad,  look  at  you !"  Eve  worried  in  alarm. 
"He  didn't— didn't " 

"No,  he  didn't!"  Skip  interjected  positively.  "I 
reckon  I  got  most  o'  this  here  a-rollin'  an'  a-bump- 
in'  around  amongst  them  cobbles — Maryland  bis- 
cuit, town-folks  calls  'em." 

Eve  slipped  her  arm  through  his  torn  sleeve  and 
together  they  went  into  the  living-room.  Skip 
sat  down,  viewing  his  scarred  hands  with  a  re- 


288  EVE,  JUNIOR 

flective  grin,  while  Eve  made  preparations  for 
lunch,  meanwhile  directing  a  rapid  fire  of  ques- 
tions at  her  father,  to  which  the  fisherman  replied 
with  monosyllabic  reticence.  After  a  time,  how- 
ever, she  succeeded  in  getting  him  to  talk. 

"Ye  see,  it  was  this-a-way,  Eve,"  he  presently 
began.  "That  no'ther  kept  the  tide  down  right 
along  yestiddy  an'  when  I  see  the  wind  a-backin' 
'round  agin  the  sun  las'  night  I  knowed  it  was 
a-comin'  on  to  blow.  So,  thinks  I,  I'll  go  to  town 
an'  git  me  some  boots  an'  paraphanalia  I  been 
a-needin'  an'  then  rig  a  rag  o'  fo'sail  on  the  bateau, 
an'  come  back  with  the  wind.  Well,  I  goes.  It's 
nigh  on  to  eight  o'clock  when  I  ties  up  at  the  foot 
o'  Broadway  an'  I  hustles  up  the  street  so's  to  git 
back  in  time  to  git  clear  o'  the  harbor  a-fore  the 
wind  ketches  me.  But  jus'  when  I  gets  abeam  o' 
that  there  place  they  call  'The  Anchorage'  I  hap- 
pens to  cast  an  eye  acrost  the  street  an'  who  does  I 
see  but  this  here  mate  feller. 

"He  sights  me  jus'  about  the  same  tick  o'  the 
clock  an'  kind  o'  sudden t-like  recollects  he's  got 
business  somewheres  what  won't  wait.  Well,  I 
reckon  we  must  o'  gone  a  hundred  fathom  or  more 
at  a  right  fair  clip  a-fore  I  overhauled  him  an' 


A  FACE  IN  THE  DARK  289 

by  that  time  we  had  comp'ny.  Man,  sir,  I  never 
seen  so  many  people  git  together  in  a  minute,  like. 
Talk  about  yo'  suddent  summer  squalls — one  min- 
ute there  wa'n't  nobody  an'  the  next  they  was  all 
around  us,  fifty  head  deep  an'  still  a-comin'. 

"Well,  o'  course,  by  that  time  there  wa'n't 
nothin'  left  for  him  to  do  but  fight  an'  I  wisht  I 
could  remember  the  rest  of  it  as  well's  I  can  that 
there  first  part,  but  the  trouble  was  it  didn't  last 
long  enough.  Seems  like  we'd  jus'  got  under  way 
proper-like  when  two  policemen  comes  a-brushin' 
in  through  the  gatherin'  an'  takes  me  head  an' 
heels  an'  carries  me  jus'  fur  enough  to  set  me  on 
my  feet  in  spite  o'  all  the  kickin'  an'  gougin'  I 
could  do  t'  the  contrary.  I  noticed  they  wa'n't 
a-payin'  much  notice  t'  him  an'  I  wondered  if  they 
was  a-goin'  t'  let  him  git  cl'ar  away  but  he  jus'  laid 
there  like  a  possum  an'  by'n  by  a  big  black  wagon 
hove  up  t'  wind'ard  an'  two  more  policemen  got 
out  an'  shipped  us  aboard. 

"Well,  that  was  all  right,  but  they  carried  us 
up  the  street  to  a  place  that  looked  like  a  red  brick 
schoolhouse  an'  one  o'  the  police  got  out  an'  taken 
me  by  the  arm  an'  led  me  up  the  steps  into  a  long 
room  with  a  high  railin'  an'  a  store  counter  at  one 


290  EVE,  JUNIOR 

end  an'  another  policeman  a-settin'  up  behind  it 
on  a  little  raised  poop-deck,  like.  Well,  him  an' 
me  had  some  words  about  how  the  argyment  with 
the  mate  feller  started  an'  we  couldn't  agree  so 
they  takes  me  back  somewheres  an'  locks  me  up  in 
a  leetle  cage  in  the  hold  an'  this  mornin'  they 
brings  me  out  agin  an'  I  has  to  tell  the  whole  thing 
all  over  t'  another  feller  an'  he  looks  in  some  books 
he  has  an'  then  goes  off  into  a  kind  o'  trance. 
By'n  by,  he  comes  to  an'  says  'Twenty  dollars  an' 
costs.' 

"Well,  I  didn't  jus'  ketch  on  t'  his  conversation 
right  away  an'  he  looks  at  me  kind  o'  owlish  like, 
an'  says,  'or* — real  expressionable  like  on  the 
'or' — 'or  twenty-one  days  in  jail.'  An'  then  I 
knowed  what  he  meant,  so  I  paid  him  off  an' 
weighed  anchor  fo'  Bodkin." 

Skip  leaned  back  and  laughed  the  quiet,  inward 
chuckling  laugh  of  one  who  is  not  particularly 
displeased  with  himself. 

"But,  Dad,"  Eve  remonstrated,  as  she  swung 
the  crane  around  over  the  fire,  "look  at  yourself! 
You're  a  sight.  Why  I  never  saw  the  like  of  you. 
And  what  became  of  the — the  mate?" 


A  FACE  IN  THE  DARK  291 

"Who,  him?  Oh,  his  time's  a-comin'.  They 
kind  o'  figgered  that  he  wa'n't  jus'  as  seaworthy 
as  he  mought  be  yet  awhile  so  they  carried  him 
on  t'  the  next  port  an'  laid  him  up  for  repairs." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  VALLEY 

IT  was  nearly  a  week  later.  The  spring  had  been 
early  that  year  and  though  it  was  then  but  the 
first  week  in  May  the  weather  was  unusually  warm 
and  thunder  storms  had  been  frequent. 

A  dark  figure  paced  wearily  to  and  fro  along 
the  stone  bulkhead  at  the  end  of  Brown's  Wharf. 
The  pier  was  otherwise  deserted.  The  night  was 
dark  and  moonless  and  a  wind  swept  out  of  the 
southwest  in  humid,  fitful  flaws  that  filled  the  air 
with  sound  and  made  the  woman's  loose,  ill-fitting 
skirt  flap  about  her  wasted  figure  as  a  buzzard 
flaps  its  wings  in  flight. 

At  last  a  man  turned  into  Thames  Street  off 
Broadway  and  entered  the  dark  lane  that  leads 
to  Brown's  Wharf.  He  walked  with  a  limp.  And 
a  clean  white  bandage  which  passed  completely 
around  his  head  obscured  his  right  eye.  He  made 
his  way  between  the  piles  of  lumber  and  cord- 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  VALLEY    293 

wood  to  the  end  of  the  pier.  The  woman  saw 
him  but  in  the  darkness  the  bandage  deceived  her 
and  she  shrank  behind  a  lumber  pile,  peering  at 
him  cautiously.  A  moment  later,  however,  she 
recognized  him  and  sprang  out  to  meet  him. 

Her  unexpected  appearance  startled  him  and 
he  greeted  her  with  a  muttered  curse. 

"Been  waiting  here  ever  since?"  he  snarled. 

"Every  night  but  one,"  she  said  softly. 
"What's  the  matter  with  your  head?" 

"Fool !"  he  sneered  and  disregarded  her  anxious 
query.  "I  looked  for  you  at  your  room  but  they 
told  me  you  had  gone.  It's  just  a  lucky  chance  I 
found  you  here." 

"The  woman  put  me  out.  Since  then  I've  lived 
— oh,  anywhere!  But  where  have  you  been"? 
Why  didn't  you  come  that  night  as  you  said  you 
would?  Oh,  I've  waited  so  long,  so  long.  And 
the  bandage — what  is  it  for?" 

"An  automobile  hit  me.  I've  been  in  the  hos- 
pital ever  since.  And  it  cost  me  twenty-one  dol- 
lars." 

"Then  you  haven't  any  money  for  me  and — 
and  the  baby?" 

"The  baby!     Bah!     Where's  the  baby?     You 


294  EVE,  JUNIOR 

haven't  got  any  baby.  You're  always  talking 
about  a  baby  to  get  more  money." 

The  woman  burst  into  tears. 

"I  couldn't  keep  it,"  she  sobbed  bitterly.  "I 
couldn't  keep  myself.  You  know  that.  I  gave  it 
to — to  some  one  who  is  caring  for  it  until  we  can 
manage  for  ourselves." 

"We!"  snapped  the  man.     "We,  hell!" 

"You  said  you  would — then,"  the  woman 
pleadingly  reminded. 

Her  companion's  laugh  was  derisive. 

"Then,"  he  repeated  contemptuously,  "then  was 
last  year.  Besides,  they  tell  me  that  you've  got 
a  husband  somewhere,  anyhow." 

The  woman  shrank  as  from  a  blow. 

"Who — who  told  you  that*?"  she  stammered. 

The  man  looked  at  her  curiously  and  when  she 
lowered  her  eyes  under  his  gaze  he  laughed  in  a 
way  that  smote  her  heart. 

"Well,  if  you  want  to  know,"  he  replied,  "no- 
body told  me.  I  just  guessed  it  and  guessed  right. 
You  can't  deny  it.  You  know  that  it's  so." 

The  woman,  with  face  averted,  was  silent. 

"Why  don't  you  go  back  to  him'?"  the  man 
sneered. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  VALLEY    295 

"Why?"  She  flashed  the  first  expressive  glance 
of  animation  her  eyes  had  betrayed.  "Why4?  Be- 
cause a  woman  never  goes  back — because  the 
world  won't  sell  her  a  round  trip  ticket  on  the  road 
to  ruin.  Once  she  has  passed  the  gates  of  decency 
they  are  closed — closed — and  they  never  open  to 
her  again.  But  a  man  can  go  to  hell  and  back  and 
you  know  it,  for  you've  been  there." 

The  man  laughed  shortly. 

"Yep!  I  guess  you're  partly  right;  and  I  ain't 
all  the  way  back,  either,  while  I'm  keeping  com- 
pany with  you." 

"But,  Cabe,  surely  you're  not  going  to  turn  me 
down  altogether  now  that  the  baby " 

"Damn  the  baby !    It's  a  bluff." 

"Bluff  or  not,  it  needs  food  and  clothes  and 
shelter  and — and  a  mother.  And  it  can't  stay 
where  it  is  much  longer.  It's  making  trouble, 
Cabe,  making  trouble  for  the — the  person  that's 
keeping  it  and  for — for  others,  too.  And  I  need 
it,  Cabe.  It's  mine,  you  know,  mine;  my  baby, 
all  I've  got  and  I  must  have  it.  I  must,  I  must, 
I  tell  you,  and  you  must  give  it  back  to  me.  You 
must  provide  for  it.  You  must,  do  you  hear  me  ? 
Ah,  Cabe,  please,  please  tell  me  that  you  will." 


296  EVE,  JUNIOR 

The  man  looked  down  at  her  with  contempt. 
His  lips  curled  back  in  a  sneer. 

"Why  don't  you  go  in  for  the  movies'?"  he 
taunted  her.  "With  your  sob  stuff  you'd  draw 
down  as  much  in  a  week  as  I  can  sweat  out  in  a 
year." 

"Ah,  Cabe!  you  don't  know  what  I  suffered 
through  those  long  months  of  waiting.  It's  strange 
and  I  suppose  I  shouldn't  tell  you  for  you'll  never 
understand;  but  through  it  all  there  was  a  face 
that  bore  me  up  when  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  stand 
it  no  longer.  Night  after  night  when  there  was 
meeting  at  'The  Anchorage'  I  went  and  waited 
for  the  sight  of  this  face,  the  only  thing  left  in  life 
that  seemed  real  and  worth  while — the  face  of  a 
minister  who  came  there  to  preach.  It  was  such 
a  good  face,  Cabe,  such  a  clean,  kind,  spiritual 
face  and  I  thought  about  it  and  dreamed  about  it 
and  lived  with  it  before  me  so  much  that  when 
my  baby  came  there  was  a  likeness  that  made  me 
wonder." 

"Huh!  It  makes  me  wonder,  too— wonder  if 
the  parson  didn't  have  a  little  more  to  do  with 
the  likeness  than  you're  giving  him  credit  for," 
the  man  leered  suggestively. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  VALLEY    297 

"You  beast!"  the  woman  hissed  with  indigna- 
tion. "Of  course  you  wouldn't  believe  anything 
but  bad  of  anybody  because  you're  all  bad  your- 
self." 

"You  can't  talk  to  me  that  way  and  expect  me 
to  look  out  for  your  brat,"  the  man  snapped  an- 
grily. 

"But  you  will,  won't  you,"  she  pleaded. 

"No,  I  won't.  Laying  up  there  in  that  bloomin' 
hospital  I  missed  my  ship  and  now  I'm  almost 
broke.  I'll  have  to  take  what  I  can  get  in  the  way 
of  a  berth.  A  dam'  tanker  would  be  just  my 
luck,"  he  growled  ill-naturedly  as  he  hitched 
around  with  his  back  to  the  bulkhead. 

The  woman's  eyes  narrowed.  Her  furtive 
glance  seemed  to  include  every  detail  of  her  sur- 
roundings in  one  comprehensive  inspection.  Then 
she  looked  up  at  her  companion  with  a  peculiar 
smile. 

"Do  you  remember  the  nights  we  met  down  here 
last  summer  and  how  the  boats  as  they  passed 
used  to  spy  us  out  with  their  searchlights'?  And 
the  moon  on  the  water1?" 

"A  full  moon  makes  a  soft  head,"  the  man  re- 
plied with  sarcasm.  "There  is  no  moon  to-night." 


298  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"No,"  the  woman  repeated  thoughtfully,  as 
her  eyes  grew  narrower,  "there  is  no  moon  to- 
night." 

In  the  next  instant  she  lunged  toward  her  com- 
panion with  all  the  sudden,  vicious  energy  of  a 
catamount  leaping  for  its  prey,  her  clenched  fists 
striking  him  in  the  pit  of  the  stomach  with  the 
full  force  of  her  momentum. 

The  unexpected  blow  sent  him  reeling  back- 
ward, his  body  doubled  up  with  pain.  At  the  edge 
of  the  bulkhead  he  fought  frantically  for  a  foot- 
hold and  clutched  in  desperation  at  the  empty 
air. 

There  came  a  cry  of  mingled  rage  and  fright,  a 
splash,  a  gasping,  shrieking,  intermittent  struggle 
in  three  vain  efforts,  each  one  briefer  than  the 
last  and — silence;  for  Cab*':  Johnson,  sailor,  could 
not  swim. 

The  woman  stood  on  the  bulkhead  staring 
blankly  down  at  the  rou^h,  black  water  that 
lapped  so  hungrily  against  the  stones  beneath  her. 
The  waves  seemed  to  call  hei;  urging  her  to  cast 
herself  amongst  them,  promising  rest  to  her 
wearied  body  and  sweet  oblivion  to  her  frenzied 
brain.  The  burden  of  their  song  was  as  balm  to 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  VALLEY    299 

her  heart.  She  would  answer  the  call  to-night 
— now — this  moment 

A  hurried  footstep  sounded  on  the  pier  behind 
her.  She  turned  in  quick  alarm.  A  man  was  run- 
ning toward  her  with  a  flashlight  which  he  swept 
from  side  to  side  as  he  came.  In  a  moment  she 
saw  the  glint  of  gilt  upon  his  coatsleeve.  It  was 
a  policeman.  Instinctively  she  darted  behind  a 
lumber  pile  and  waited.  The  policeman  reached 
the  bulkhead  and  flashed  his  light  out  on  the 
water  beyond.  A  moment  later  he  was  joined  by 
a  brother  officer. 

"See  anything*?"  asked  the  latter,  breathing 
hard. 

"Not  a  thing.  I  was  sure  I  heard  a  man  yell," 
said  the  first. 

"So  was  I,"  the  second  agreed. 

"Maybe  it  was  the  wind,"  suggested  the  first 
officer. 

"Maybe,"  assented  the  second. 

"Or  it  might  o'  been  a  'rat,'  "  the  first  added. 

"Well,  if  it  was,  we'll  get  him  later,"  said  the 
second. 

"Yes,  but  there  ain't  much  left  when  the  crabs 


300  EVE,  JUNIOR 

gets  done  with  'em,"  the  first  replied  with  a  yawn 
as  they  turned  and  walked  away. 

The  woman  shuddered  and  crept  back  to  the 
bulkhead,  fascinated  by  the  lapping  waves.  She 
got  down  on  her  hands  and  knees  and  peered  over 
the  edge.  As  she  did  so,  a  school  of  alewives  dis- 
porting themselves  off  the  pier  fluttered  to  the 
surface,  broke  and  dived  away,  their  luminous, 
phosphorescent  sides  gleaming  like  a  thousand 
glowing  coals  in  the  black  water  below. 

With  a  cry  like  that  of  a  young  child  fright- 
ened in  the  dark  the  woman  arose  and  fled  in 
panic  up  the  pier. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A    REDHEADED    WOODPECKER 

EVE  was  just  getting  the  boy  to  sleep  when  Mc- 
Lean came  in  upon  her  the  following  afternoon. 
He  stood  in  the  open  doorway  of  her  room  watch- 
ing her  with  eager,  fascinated  eyes  as  she  mothered 
the  little  bit  of  humanity  with  a  tenderness  that 
betrayed  her  strong  maternal  instinct. 

"It's  a  pretty  picture  you  make,  Eve,  sitting 
there  in  your  little  white  rocker  with  your  hand 
upon  the  cradle,"  he  said  with  a  quaint  smile  that 
was  half  a  sigh.  "You  look  just  natural." 

"Indeed!  Thank  you!  But  it  isn't  a  cradle, 
you  know,"  laughed  Eve,  a  faint  flush  deepening 
the  color  in  her  cheeks. 

"No;  it's  a  basket  that  answers  the  same  pur- 
pose, thanks  to  your  ingenuity." 

He  swung  his  cap  like  an  awkward,  bashful 
boy  for  an  aimless,  silent  moment,  his  eyes  on  the 
floor  at  his  feet. 

301 


302  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"By  the  way,"  he  said  presently,  as  if  he  had 
just  thought  of  it,  "the  survey's  finished." 

"No !"  Eve  protested  with  a  petulant  frown. 

"Yes !"  McLean  insisted  gravely. 

"Jiminy!  Can't  you  find  a  little  bit  more  to 
do*?  Just  a  teeny,  weeny  creek  or  cove  or  some- 
thing that  you've  forgotten*?" 

"Not  even  so  much  as  a  sounding !"  he  replied 
in  a  hopeless  tone.  Then  they  both  laughed 
through  sheer  helplessness  to  do  anything  else. 

"When  do  you  leaved"  asked  Eve,  sobering. 

"To-morrow  night — unless "  McLean  hesi- 
tated, glancing  furtively  at  the  girl. 

"Unless  what?"  Eve  encouraged. 

"Well,  you  see,  the  department  instructed  me 
to  take  my  vacation  at  the  conclusion  of  this  sur- 
vey and  then  report  to  the  Alaskan  headquarters 
at  Nome.  So  I " 

"Nome?"  Eve  interrupted  to  repeat,  knitting 
her  brows  reflectively.  "Nome"?  That's  where 
they  had  that  awful  fever  not  so  long  ago,  isn't 
it?  I  think  Miss  Mary  T.  and  the  doctor  were 
talking  about  it  one  day." 

"Yes,"  laughed  McLean,  "gold  fever;  the  very 
worst  kind  when  it  gets  you  right !  But  about  the 


A  REDHEADED  WOODPECKER  303 

vacation — I  thought  perhaps — that  is,  of  course, 
as  there's  no  place  else  in  Bodkin  to  stop  I  thought 
maybe  you  and  your  father  might  put  me  up  for 
a  week  or  so,  but  then  I  guess — I  don't  suppose 
you  could,  either,"  he  finished  in  disappointment. 

Eve  eyed  him  soberly,  her  head  a  trifle  to  one 
side,  her  humor  barely  perceptible  in  the  twitching 
corners  of  her  mouth. 

"Of  course,  if  you  know  some  reason  why  we 
can't  I  shouldn't  trouble  to  ask  about  it  if  I  were 
you,"  she  remarked  dryly. 

"Then  you  can?"  McLean's  face  beamed  with 
a  sudden  accession  of  happiness. 

"Well,"  began  Eve  with  a  tantalizing  air  of 
giving  the  matter  judicious  consideration,  "that 
all  depends.  For  instance,  you  might  not  thrive 
on  our  fare.  I  remember  the  first  meal  you  stayed 
to  here  wasn't  just  the  tastiest  you'd  ever  sat  down 
to,  according  to  your  notion  of  it." 

"I  thoroughly  enjoyed  every  bite  of  it,"  Mc- 
Lean hastened  to  assure  her. 

Eve  smiled  retrospectively.  "Now  take  supper 
to-night,  for  instance.  Of  course,  you're  going 
to  stay  to  supper.  Well,  first  off,  there's  catfish 


304  EVE,  JUNIOR 

chowder.  Then  we'll  have  eel  fricassee  with  corn 
cakes  fried  in  eel  fat  and  a  side  dish  of  pickled 
eel  as  a  relish,  followed  by  a  musk-rat  pot-pie  and 
a  winter  cress  salad  with  an  eel  oil  dressing.  I 
haven't  quite  decided  on  the  dessert  yet,  but  it  will 
probably  be  dried  apple  pie  with  eel  fat  shorten- 
ing in  the  crust." 

"And  after  supper  I  shall  probably  go  down  to 
the  beach  and  wriggle  right  on  overboard  with 
the  rest  of  the  eels,"  said  McLean,  making  a  wry 
face ;  and  Eve  leaned  down  and  snuggled  her  own 
face  in  against  the  sleeping  child's  that  she  might 
give  vent  unseen  to  the  mirth  she  could  no  longer 
control. 

"The  tide  is  extremely  low  and  the  neck  is 
bare.  Suppose  we  take  a  walk  along  the  old 
swamp  road,"  the  surveyor  presently  suggested. 

"But  the  boy "  Eve  objected. 

"Plum  can  come  in  and  stay  until  we  get  back," 
said  McLean. 

"Very  well !  But  mind — I  shall  have  to  return 
in  time  to  prepare  the  eels,"  she  warned. 

"Deuce  take  the  eels !  The  swamps  are  full  of 
wildflowers  and,  besides,  we  may  not  have  an- 


A  REDHEADED  WOODPECKER   305 

other  opportunity  like  this  unless  you  consent  to 
marry  me,"  he  said  earnestly. 

"Or  unless  you  consent  to  eat  eel  for  two 
weeks,"  laughed  Eve,  not  irreverently. 

The  neck  was,  indeed,  quite  bare  and  dry;  so 
they  were  enabled  to  cross  the  firm,  gravelly  strip 
of  sand  without  so  much  as  wetting  the  soles  of 
their  shoes.  It  was  one  of  those  rare  spring  days 
of  what  watermen  so  expressively  term  "no'theast 
weather."  The  atmosphere  was  clear  and  crisply 
cool  and  the  sun  shone  with  the  brilliance  of  the 
tropics.  As  they  came  to  the  top  of  the  low  bank 
where  the  old  road  entered  the  swamp,  Eve 
stopped,  and  turning,  drew  a  deep  breath  of  the 
perfume  ladened  air,  for  the  fresh  scent  of  the 
sea  was  deliciously  blended  with  the  pitchy  odor 
of  pines,  the  fragrance  of  the  wildflowers  and  the 
humid,  earthy  smell  of  the  bordering  marsh. 

"Look,"  she  said,  stretching  forth  her  hand  in 
a  gesture  of  delight,  "you  can  pick  out  the  farm- 
houses on  the  other  side  of  the  bay,  it's  that  clear. 
Wouldn't  you  just  love  to  climb  a  tree  and  look 
everywhere4?  I've  sat  in  the  top  of  the  water  oak 
for  hours  at  a  time  on  days  like  this.  At  first  the 
birds  were  afraid  of  me  and  wouldn't  come  near; 


306  EVE,  JUNIOR 

but  soon  they  found  that  I  was  quite  harmless 
and  then  they  would  come  and  pose  and  sing  for 
me.  Remember  the  blue  jay  in  my  room*?  I 
sketched  him  from  life,  sitting  in  the  very  tip  top 
of  the  water  oak." 

"You've  almost  given  up  your  art  work  lately, 
haven't  you1?" 

Eve  stooped  to  pick  a  single,  snowy  wake-robin 
growing  in  the  moist  mold  beside  her.  "I  haven't 
had  much  time  with  the  baby  and  all,"  she  replied 
slowly  as  she  examined  the  dainty  trillium.  "Still, 
I've  managed  to  keep  up  my  practise ;  early  morn- 
ings, mostly,  when  the  light  is  good.  Strange, 
isn't  it,  that  the  roots  of  a  flower  so  sweet  and 
harmless  itself  should  be  poisonous?"  I 

"But  there  are  many  others  equally  sweet  and 
entirely  harmless.  Perhaps  that  is  the  wake-robin's 
means  of  protection;  for  next  years  leaves  lie 
curled  in  this  year's  roots,"  said  McLean. 

Eve  sighed  and  turned  to  go  on.  "How  beau- 
tiful it  all  is  and  how  wonderful  and  perfect  and 
complete!  No  artist  could  paint  trees  like  these 
with  just  the  right  colpring  and  just  the  way  those 
flecks  of  sunshine  light  each  leaf  and  cone  and 
needle-point  with  little  flames  of  green  and  brown 


A  REDHEADED  WOODPECKER  307 

and  yellow  fire.  And  it  does  look  like  fire,  doesn't 
it?  Look  at  that  big  pine — the  one  the  cones 
haven't  all  shaken  off  of  yet — can't  you  see  little 
tongues  of  brown  and  yellow  flame  dancing  about 
the  tips  of  the  cones'?  And  look  at  the  bright 
green  growths  of  needles  at  the  ends  of  the 
branches — this  year's  leaves — don't  you  see  a  pin- 
point of  green  fire  just  a-glinting  from  the  end  of 
each  needle?  Well,  you  couldn't  paint  that, 
could  you?" 

McLean  smiled.  "You're  not  getting  disgusted 
with  art,  I  hope." 

"Of  course  not !  I'm  only  beginning  to  realize 
how  much  bigger  and  better  and  perfecter — I 
mean,  more  perfect — the  real  things  are  than  the 
make-believes — the — the  imitations.  Sometimes, 
when  I  look  around  me,  I  just  know  that  there 
never  was  a  picture  made  half  so  beautiful  as  God 
made  old  Bodkin,  or  these  woods,  or  the  swamps, 
just  as  they  are,  without  any  touchin'  up,  or  high- 
lights, or  anything  except  just  the  sunshine  and 
the  sweet,  clean  air.  And  then  I  can't  help  but 
remember  what  poor  things  paints  and  pencils  are, 
even  when  you  know  how  to  use  'em." 

They  were  in  the  curve  of  the  old  road  now, 


308  EVE,  JUNIOR 

walled  in,  as  it  seemed,  on  every  side  by  tall  tim- 
ber and  flowered  underbrush.  High  overhead  the 
branching  trees  met  in  a  perfect  arch  of  young 
green  leaves,  through  which  the  sunlight  seldom 
found  its  way,  so  that  the  open  space  beneath  was 
dim  and  shadowy  with  a  subdued,  cathedral  glow. 
They  passed  through  it  with  reverent,  softly  tread- 
ing footsteps,  their  lips  silent,  their  minds  delving 
near  to  the  infinite. 

Coming  now  to  the  bordering  swamps,  the  trees 
thinned  somewhat  and  the  way  was  strewn  with 
bluets  and  yellow  star-grass  and  carpeted  with 
white  plantain,  which  Eve  called  "pussy  toes." 
Wild  azaleas  crowded  up  between  banks  of  leaf- 
less, snow-white  shadbush  in  splashes  of  brilliant 
pink,  while  the  fragrant  wood  anemone  sought  to 
display  its  delicate  tints  amongst  the  profusion  of 
purple  and  white  violets  which,  far  from  being 
modest,  made  bold  attempts  to  overrun  the  road. 
The  hardy  May-apple  had  seldom  neglected  a  low, 
damp  spot  wherein  to  raise  its  bright  green  um- 
brella and  hang  out  its  nodding,  solitary  fruit. 
Even  the  ancient  wheel  ruts  gave  ground  to  its 
persistent  advances. 

In  the  deeper  woods  bird  and  insect  life  had 


A  REDHEADED  WOODPECKER  309 

been  subdued,  but  here  the  bees  were  in  every 
flower  and  the  tree-tops  rang  with  melody.  A 
ruby-throated  hummingbird  poised  for  the  brief- 
est instant  before  a  tempting  spray  of  wild  colum- 
bine and  fled  with  the  treasured  nectar  even 
as  McLean  pointed  him  out  to  Eve.  A  cardinal 
flirted  past  them  in  a  flash  of  living  flame.  A 
pair  of  blue  jays,  swaying  in  a  high-bush  huckle- 
berry by  the  roadside,  scolded  loudly  at  their  near 
approach. 

"Look!"  cried  Eve  in  a  low  voice  as  they 
turned  a  slight  bend  in  the  road.  "Look!"  she 
repeated,  pointing  to  a  redheaded  woodpecker 
drumming  industriously  on  the  bleached  limb  of 
a  dead  tree  that  had  fallen  partly  across  the  road. 
"Isn't  he  a  beauty?" 

The  woodpecker  took  flight  at  sight  of  the  in- 
truders and  they  watched  him  wing  his  way  to 
the  topmost  branches  of  a  lightning-blasted  pine 
that  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  swamp  between  the 
road  and  the  creek.  Eve's  breathless  exclamation 
betrayed  profound  surprise.  "The  tree  he's  in! 
Look  at  it,  would  you!  Why,  it's  only  half  a 
tree!" 

"By  jove!     Split  right  through  the  heart  from 


310  EVE,  JUNIOR 

tip-top  to  taproot,"  McLean  added  quickly. 
"We've  got  to  see  more  of  that  gentleman.  The 
pranks  that  lightning  plays  are  stranger  than  the 
fiction  of  Jules  Verne.  But  it's  pretty  swampy  in 
there  if  you  mind  getting  your  feet  wet,  Eve." 

"But  I  don't,"  said  Eve  and  led  the  way 
through  a  tangle  of  honeysuckle  and  greenbrier 
with  the  quiet  dexterity  of  a  woodsman. 

Though  the  intervening  ground  was  low  and 
marshy,  the  tree  itself  stood  upon  a  slight  eleva- 
tion and  was  somewhat  isolated  from  neighboring 
trees  of  a  similar  size,  being  immediately  sur- 
rounded by  a  few  gum  and  willow  saplings.  The 
fallen  half  lay  partly  submerged  in  the  swamp, 
while  the  gnarled  and  twisted  roots  still  clung  to 
its  base. 

Eve  and  the  surveyor  stood  for  a  silent,  contem- 
plative interval,  viewing  the  phenomenon.  Mc- 
Lean seemed  much  interested.  He  examined  the 
cleaved  surfaces  of  the  standing  and  fallen  halves 
and  compared  them  with  the  sundered  end  of  the 
fallen  half  which  had  broken  off  close  to  the 
ground, 

"That's  strange,"  he  mused  thoughtfully;  "the 
lightning  appears  to  have  split  this  tree  a  good 


A  REDHEADED  WOODPECKER  311 

while  ago,  for  the  grain  is  old  and  weathered; 
but  this  break  is  quite  fresh,  as  though  the  fallen 
half  had  but  recently  gone  down.  And  look  there 
— that  proves  it — that  willow  sapling  all  crushed 
beneath  it.  See,  the  leaves  are  just  beginning  to 
wilt." 

McLean  paused,  his  attention  centered  on  the 
spot  where  the  fallen  half  dipped  into  the  swamp. 
In  a  moment  he  was  working  his  way  cautiously 
out  along  the  cleaved  surface.  Presently  he 
stooped  down  and  felt  of  the  wood.  It  was  as 
smooth  and  polished  as  a  table  top  and  looked 
as  though  it  had  been  rubbed  with  rosin. 

He  hurried  back  to  the  base  of  the  tree,  where 
he  stood  looking  up  at  a  place  on  the  sundered 
side  so  smooth  and  shiny  that  the  sunlight  glinted 
in  its  surface.  Meanwhile,  Eve  watched  her  com- 
panion with  a  growing  expression  of  puzzled  in- 
quiry. 

"What  on  earth  are  you  trying  to  do?"  she 
finally  exclaimed. 

"Sh-h!"  he  whispered,  laughing.  "I'm  on  the 
trail  of  a  mystery.  Look,  Eve,"  he  continued, 
sobering,  as  he  pointed  to  the  smooth  place  on  the 
fallen  half,  "do  you  see  that  spot  that  looks  as  if 


312  EVE,  JUNIOR 

some  one  had  polished  it*?"  Eve  nodded.  "Now 
look  an  equal  distance  up  this  half  and  you'll  see 
the  same  sort  of  place." 

"Yes,"  said  Eve  thoughtfully,  "just  as  if  the 
two  halves  had  been  rubbing  together." 

"Exactly.  Now  suppose  they  had — it  would 
have  made  some  sort  of  noise,  wouldn't  it*?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  reckon  it  would,"  she  agreed — 

then  looked  at  him  suddenly.  "You  mean " 

She  hesitated,  her  eyes  dilated  with  an  uncontrol- 
lable dread. 

McLean  nodded  in  affirmation.  "After  this  tree 
was  split  the  two  parts  no  longer  acted  in  unison. 
Sometimes  the  wind  swayed  one  half  one  way 
and  the  other  half  in  the  opposite  direction;  and 
then  they  would  rub  together  there  near  the  mid- 
dle and  make  all  sorts  of  weird  sounds — perhaps. 
Of  course,  I'm  only  deducing  this  to  fit  the  cir- 
cumstances; but  it  does  seem  to  fit  pretty  well. 
Another  thing:  the  only  wind  that  would  have 
swayed  this  tree  so  as  to  cause  the  halves  to  rub 
together  would  have  been  a  northwester  because 
the  line  of  cleavage,  through  and  through,  is  from 
northwest  to  southeast,  and  the  woods  there  pro- 
tect it  from  a  southeast  wind,  while  on  the  north- 


A  REDHEADED  WOODPECKER   313 

west  there  is  no  protection  at  all.  Wind  from 
any  other  direction  would  have  caused  the  two 
parts  merely  to  rock  with  each  other  and  without 
friction." 

"I  reckon,  then,  that  this  half,  in  falling,  made 
the  awful  crashin'  sound  I  heard  the  night  of  the 
storm  last  week.  I  thought  at  first  that  our  chimley 
— chimney — had  tumbled  in  and  taken  the  roof 
along  with  it,"  Eve  remarked. 

"Another  clue!"  laughed  McLean.  "We'll 
have  this  deep,  dark  mystery  roped,  thrown  and 
branded  before  the  day's  out.  I'd  swear  that  it 
hasn't  been  more  than  a  week  since  this  half  fell 
and  judging  by  the  looks  of  it  it  didn't  just  fall 
of  its  own  accord,  either.  It  took  a  pretty  stiff 
blow  to  wrench  and  crush  a  big  segment  of  tim- 
ber like  that;  and  if  the  crash  echoed  at  your 
chimney  I'll  wager  the  sound  came  from  the  same 
place  the  shrieks  did.  In  order  to  produce  an 
echo  the  original  sound  must  start  from  a  point 
at  right  angles  to " 

Of  a  sudden,  from  the  region  above  their  heads 
came  a  series  of  sharp,  insistent,  staccato-like  taps 
that  made  them  stare  at  each  other  in  awe-struck 
silence.  Coming  as  they  had  in  the  midst  of  the 


314  EVE,  JUNIOR 

unproved  theory  of  a  doubtful  subject,  the  taps 
seemed  ominously  significant.  A  moment  later 
the  sounds  were  flung  back  from  afar.  There  was 
no  mistaking  their  echo.  It  was  a  clear  and  per- 
fect repetition  of  the  original  taps. 

McLean  was  the  first  to  recover  himself.  He 
looked  up  at  the  top  of  the  stark  half-tree  and 
laughed. 

"Thanks,  old  fellow!"  he  called  to  the  red- 
headed woodpecker  perched  on  the  topmost 
branch.  "Thanks!  You  led  us  to  our  problem 
and  then  you  solved  it  for  us.  School's  out;  you 
may  go  home  now.  Well,  Eve,"  he  continued, 
looking  into  the  girl's  delighted  eyes,  "one  echo 
is  as  good  as  another.  I  guess  we've  laid  the  ghost 
of  Bodkin." 

"I  hope  so,"  she  fervently  replied,  then  added 
as  in  dubious  afterthought,  "I  wonder  if  it  would 
echo  every  time1?" 

"Of  course !"  McLean  assured  her,  backing  up 

against  the  half  tree.  "Listen:  cOh-h,  Plum '  " 

he  called  loudly  through  his  cupped  hands. 

In  a  moment  back  came  the  echo,  "O-o-oh, 
Plu-um!"  and  Eve  clapped  her  hands  in  sheer 
delight. 


A  REDHEADED  WOODPECKER   315 

"We  must  be  going  home,"  she  added  pres- 
ently. "The  sun  is  down  behind  the  tree-tops 
already  and  the  tide  is  setting  in.  We'll  have  to 
wade  the  neck,  I  reckon,  and  besides,  there's  the 
baby  to  look  after  and  eels  to  cook." 

She  gave  him  a  mischievous  sidewise  glance. 
He  wrinkled  his  nose  in  disgust.  "Eels,  bah! 
You  can't  cook  eels.  Five  minutes  after  they're 
cold  they're  as  raw  as  they  were  when  you  put 
them  in  the  pan." 

"Well,  what  of  that?  Wise  folks  don't  let  'em 
get  cold.  Dad  and  I  never  have  any  left-overs," 
Eve  replied  with  a  twinkle  of  merriment  lighting 
her  gray-green  eyes. 

And  thus  they  went  leisurely  back  along  the  old 
swamp  road  while  the  shadows  grew  longer  and 
the  bordering  woods  filled  with  dusky  twilight. 
When  they  came  to  the  long,  wide  curve  Eve 
stooped  to  pick  an  armful  of  wild  azaleas  and 
McLean  spied  a  solitary  orchid  blooming  amid  the 
protection  of  a  tangle  of  carrion-flower  somewhat 
remote  from  the  roadside.  Heedless  of  thorns  and 
scratches,  he  had  all  but  reached  it  through  the 
maze  of  unsavory  briars  when  the  crunching  of 
dry  leaves  and  the  snapping  of  twigs  in  the  im- 


316  EVE,  JUNIOR 

penetrable  depths  beyond  caused  him  to  hesitate 
and  listen.  But  he  heard  nothing  more  and  pushed 
on  toward  his  quest.  As  he  did  so  there  came  a 
hurried,  crashing  sound,  as  of  a  heavy  body  dash- 
ing wildly  away  through  the  dense  undergrowth. 
Eve  heard  it,  too,  and  called  to  McLean  in  alarm. 
The  surveyor  plucked  the  precious,  purple- fringed 
flower  and  returned  to  his  companion. 

"I  didn't  know  your  Bodkin  swamps  could 
boast  of  bears,"  he  said,  laughing;  but  as  they 
went  on  through  the  deeply  wooded  way  he  cast 
many  a  furtive,  almost  apprehensive  glance  to- 
ward the  blue,  shadowy  recesses  they  encountered. 

The  tide  was  well  up  when  they  reached  the 
neck  and  though  Eve  strenuously  objected,  Mc- 
Lean took  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  across 
to  the  island  beach. 

"Toll!"  he  demanded,  laughing,  as  he  kissed 
her  and  set  her  upon  her  feet. 

She  slapped  him  right  soundly,  but  he  straight- 
way collected  damages  in  a  repetition  of  his  first 
offense;  after  which  she  demurely  affected  a  pout 
and  let  him  alone,  though  he  recognized  the  fraud 
by  the  laughter  in  her  eyes. 

Plum  met  them  in  the  doorway,  his  old  eyes 


A  REDHEADED  WOODPECKER  317 

wide  and  glazed,  his  shriveled  form  bent  and  shak- 
ing as  with  palsy.  The  hide-like,  plum-colored 
skin  of  his  face  was  more  than  ever  filled  with 
nervous,  twitching  wrinkles. 

"Li'l  Missy's  ole  Plum  done  come  t'  his  time, 
he  reckons,"  he  solemnly  declared  in  his  sonorous, 
tomb-like  tones. 

"Why,  poor  old  Plum,  dear,  what  ails  you? 
Has  anything  happened*?"  asked  Eve  in  sympa- 
thetic alarm. 

Plum  gulped  miserably.  "Hit  sho'  done  hap 
pened  t'  ole  Plum  dis  time.  His  time  am  come. 
De  debbil  called  him  an'  his  time  am  come,"  he 
wailed. 

Eve  took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him  to  a  chair 
within.  McLean  followed  and  they  both  sat  down 
beside  him,  gravely  concerned.  In  Eve's  room 
they  could  see  the  baby  sleeping  quietly  in  its 
gently  swinging  basket  and  the  sight  relieved  the 
girl  of  half  her  sudden  fear. 

"Now  tell  us,  Plum,"  she  coaxed,  with  her 
hands  upon  his  knees,  "what  is  the  matter  with 
you*?  Begin  at  the  beginning.  You  look  as 
though  you're  scared  to  death." 

Plum  grinned  feebly.     "Li'l  Missy's  mo*  'en 


318  EVE,  JUNIOR 

half  right.  Ole  Plum  is  skeered,  'cause  de  debbil's 
done  called  him,  jus'  corned  right  outen  de  old 
fireplace  an'  called  him,  hisself.  Plum,  he's  a-set- 
tin'  in  li'l  Missy's  room  a-mindin'  de  baby  when 
all  on  a  suddent  comes  a  rappin'-tappin'-tappin', 
jus'  like  this  yere,"  and  Plum  rapped  his  knuckles 
loudly  on  the  arm  of  his  chair  and  continued, 
"only  a  heap  faster.  An'  Plum,  he  sets  up  an' 
listens  like  a  dog  a-settin'  a  covey  o'  pa'tridges 
an'  in  a  minute  somethin'  hollers  jus'  as  loud  as 
hit  kin,  'Aw-w-w,  Plu-um,'  right  outen  this  yere 
fireplace  an'  Plum,  he  jus'  comes  down  with  a 
chill,  a-shiverin'  an'  a-shakin',  an'  liked  t'  died 
right  off,  he  did.  An'  if  hit  wa'n't  de  debbil 
a-callin'  ole  Plum,  then  he  don't  know  whut  hit 
were." 

Eve  and  McLean  burst  into  peals  of  unre- 
strained laughter  while  Plum  regarded  them  with 
an  expression  of  bewilderment. 

"In  the  future,"  said  the  surveyor,  between  con- 
vulsions of  merriment,  "I  shall  never  fail  to  salute 
a  redheaded  woodpecker,  the  wisest  bird  in  the 
woods." 

Plum  gave  McLean  a  look  which  showed 
plainer  than  speech  that  he  doubted  his  sanity. 


A  REDHEADED  WOODPECKER  319 

He  glanced  back  at  Eve  for  reassurance,  but  found 
her  nodding  and  laughing  assent  to  what  McLean 
had  said.  He  arose  wearily,  his  wrinkled  old  face 
a  study  of  conflicting  emotions. 

"Ole  Plum  done  killed  dem  chickens  whut  li'l 
Missy  wants  fo'  supper,"  he  said  as  he  made  his 
way  toward  the  door. 

Eve  shot  a  surreptitious  glance  at  McLean, 
"But,  Plum,"  she  protested  with  a  wink  that  was 
meant  to  be  enlightening,  "we're  to  have  eel  for 
supper." 

The  old  negro  grinned  and  licked  his  lips. 
"  'Deed,  an'  ole  Plum  sho'  do  wish  we  was  a-goin' 
to,  but  li'l  Missy  ain't  let  ary  eel  light  'round 
this  yere  place  since  Marse  Douglas,  there,  let  on 
as  how  they's  snakes." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE    WAGES    OF    SIN 

IT  was  late  when  McLean  returned  to  his  ship 
and  Eve  bolted  the  door  and  made  ready  for  bed, 
pleasantly  fatigued  by  the  day's  activities  with  her 
lover.  Her  father  had  come  in  just  at  supper- 
time  and  had  gone  again  soon  afterward  to  fish 
his  lower  nets.  Skip  had  always  exhibited  a  de- 
cided liking  for  the  surveyor,  and  when  the  latter 
had  broached  the  subject  of  his  proposed  vacation 
the  fisherman  had  given  him  a  hearty  welcome; 
so  that,  much  to  the  mutual  satisfaction  of  the 
three,  it  was  finally  decided  that  McLean  should 
spend  his  leave  on  the  island. 

Eve  had  just  drifted  off  into  a  restful  sleep 
when  there  came  a  tapping  on  her  window  pane. 
She  awoke  with  a  start  that  set  her  nerves  a-tingle. 
Her  heart  seemed  in  her  throat  as  she  leaped  from 
her  bed  and  cautiously  approached  the  open 
window. 

320 


THE  WAGES  OF  SIN  321 

A  black,  disheveled  head  was  slowly  raised 
above  the  sill  and  a  pair  of  eyes  gleamed  in  at 
her.  The  girl  shrank  backward  with  a  little  cry 
of  dread. 

"Eve — Eve !"  a  voice  whispered  hoarsely. 

Eve  took  heart  and  approached  the  window. 

"Brookie !"  she  called  softly. 

"Yes,  Eve;  let  me  in!  Please  let  me  in!"  the 
voice  pleaded. 

Eve  quickly  made  a  light  in  the  living  room  and 
unbolted  the  door. 

Without  an  instant's  hesitation  the  bedraggled 
woman  made  straightway  for  Eve's  room  and  the 
swinging  basket.  With  a  weird  little  cry  of  de- 
light she  gathered  the  sleeping  child  into  her  arms. 
For  a  long  moment  she  held  it  crushed  to  her 
breast  in  an  ecstasy  of  primitive,  almost  savage 
mother-love. 

A  sudden  fear  flashed  through  Eve's  mind. 
Through  the  days  and  nights  that  she  had  nursed 
and  cared  for  it  she  had  grown  to  love  the  little 
mite  of  humanity  as  her  own  child  and  she  could 
not  abide  the  thought  of  parting  with  it. 

"You're  not  going  to  take  him  back, 
Brookie "  she  ventured  haltingly. 


322  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Startled,  the  woman  looked  up,  as  though 
she  had  quite  forgotten  the  girl.  She  smiled,  a 
slow,  sad  smile  that  betrayed  more  of  sorrow  than 
tears  would  have  done.  She  shook  her  head  in  list- 
less negation  of  Eve's  query. 

"No,"  she  replied  in  a  voice  of  quiet  resigna- 
tion, "I'm  not  going  to  take  him  back  at  all. 
We're  both  going  to  stay  right  here  in  Bodkin — al- 
ways." 

The  girl  gasped  her  utter  astonishment.  "You 
don't  mean  that  you're  going  to  stay  here?" 

"Yes,  here!"  the  woman  calmly  repeated. 

"But,  Brookie,  what  will  Dad  say4?  What  will 
he  do  when  he  knows?"  Eve  insisted  with  em- 
phasis. 

Brookie  smiled.  "He  won't  do  anything — 
when  he  knows,"  she  replied  in  the  same  even, 
timbreless  tone. 

"How  did  you  come'?"  asked  Eve. 

"By  the  old  swamp  road.  I've  been  hiding 
over  there  since  last  night.  In  the  dark  I  lost  my 
way  and  wandered  into  the  swamp  and  the  briars 
tore  my  clothes  almost  off  my  back.  Then  I  hid 
through  the  day  and  waited  until  dark  again." 


THE  WAGES  OF  SIN  323 

Eve's  expression  bordered  on  horrified  incre- 
dulity. 

"And  you've  had  nothing  to  eat  or  drink  since 
last  night ?  Gracious!  Brookie,  why  didn't  you 
tell  me  before — though  I  might  have  guessed  it 
by  the  look  of  you." 

Eve  hurriedly  prepared  a  generous  lunch  from 
dishes  already  cooked  and  in  the  pantry,  most  of 
which  were  left  over  from  supper.  And  though 
Brookie  insisted  that  she  was  not  hungry  the  girl 
literally  compelled  her  to  sit  down  and  eat.  After- 
ward she  helped  Brookie  remove  her  tattered 
clothing  and  bathe  her  poor,  scratched  body  and 
gave  her  one  of  her  own  fresh,  flower-scented  night 
gowns. 

"Dad  will  not  be  back  until  well  past  sun-up 
and  you  may  sleep  with  me  on  the  side  next  to 
your  boy,"  Eve  told  her  as  they  made  preparations 
for  bed.  "Dad  won't  even  know  you're  here  un- 
less you  want  him  to.  But  that  is  for  you  to  de- 
cide." 

Brookie  did  not  reply.  She  seemed  scarcely  to 
have  heard  what  Eve  had  said.  Her  whole  being 
appeared  to  be  centered  in  the  silent  contempla- 
tion of  her  sleeping  child.  She  took  him  in  her 


324  EVE,  JUNIOR 

arms  and  crept  softly  in  upon  the  side  of  the 
bed  which  Eve  had  designated  to  her. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  was  apparently  fast  asleep. 
Then  Eve  extinguished  the  light  and  slipped 
quietly  in  on  the  other  side.  Her  own  deep,  regu- 
lar breathing  was  soon  added  to  that  of  her  com- 
panion. 

But  Brookie  was  far  from  sleep.  For  more  than 
an  hour  she  lay  without  moving  a  muscle,  though 
her  very  inertia  was  torture  and  her  body  grew 
cramped  and  numb.  At  last  she  could  bear  it  no 
longer.  Turning  cautiously,  she  watched  the 
peaceful  face  of  her  fair  bedfellow  for  signs  of 
wakefulness.  Was  she,  too,  feigning  sleep?  Yet 
why  should  she,  in  the  morning  of  her  sweet  young 
life  with  the  whole  bright  day  before  her*?  Be- 
sides, she  suspected  nothing. 

Nestling  the  baby  close  to  her  breast  Brookie 
slid  her  aching  body  to  the  edge  of  the  bed  with  a 
slow,  sinuous  movement  that  was  like  the  stealthy 
gliding  of  a  serpent.  Softly  she  drew  the  covers 
back  and  put  her  feet  out  from  under  them.  In 
another  moment  she  was  standing  at  the  bedside 
looking  fearfully  at  Eve ;  for  the  girl  had  turned 


THE  WAGES  OF  SIN  325 

ever  so  little,  disturbed,  perhaps,  by  her  compan- 
ion's departure.  But  Eve  slept  soundly. 

Silently  the  woman  unfastened  the  door  and 
stepped  out  upon  the  cold  stone  slab.  The  con- 
tact sent  a  chill  creeping  through  her,  but  she  gave 
it  little  heed  and  made  straightway  for  the  pebbly 
beach  at  the  island's  southern  end. 

The  tide  was  ebbing  and  the  bar  which  at  this 
point  projected  far  out  into  the  creek  was  bare  and 
white  well-nigh  to  the  "up-and-down,"  or  end, 
where  the  submerged  bank  dips  sharply  to  the 
channel.  Brookie  smiled.  It  was  not  to  be  so 
trying,  after  all. 

The  sand  was  wet  and  cold  and  her  bare  feet 
left  deep  impressions  in  it;  which  was  well,  for 
they  marked  the  way  she  had  gone  and  Skipworth 
would  be  back  at  sun-up.  Perhaps  he  would  find 
them  before  the  crabs.  .  .  .  She  shuddered  and 
turned  from  the  thought  with  a  resolution  that  in- 
dicated her  fixity  of  purpose. 

With  the  first  cold  contact  of  the  water  about 
her  ankles  she  shivered  and  gasped,  and— went  on. 
Knee-deep,  she  trod  upon  an  oyster  shell.  It 
pinched  and  cut  her  foot  and  she  gave  a  little 


326  EVE,  JUNIOR 

scream  of  terror  and  stopped  a  moment  to  look 
back  and  then — went  on. 

She  came  to  the  "up-and-down"  with  the  water 
at  her  waist  and  the  child  sleeping  peacefully  at 
her  breast.  She  raised  its  tiny  face  to  her  lips  and 
kissed  it  again  and  again. 

A  moment  later  she  stepped  out  into  the  ebbing 
tide,  smiling  and  breathing  deeply  as  she  went. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A    LEAF    UNFOLDS 

ANOTHER  mound  was  added  to  the  three  beneath 
the  willow,  for  mother  and  babe  were  buried  just 
as  Skip  had  found  them — together — the  child  still 
clasped  in  Brookie's  arms.  The  big  fisherman,  by 
reason  of  the  heartbroken  sentiment  which  he  still 
entertained  toward  the  woman  who  had  been  his 
wife,  would  have  it  no  other  way. 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  the  rites  were  con- 
cluded and  Dr.  Tilghman,  pressed  by  the  insistent 
appeals  of  Eve  and  her  father,  decided  to  spend 
the  evening  with  them.  In  their  time  of  tribula- 
tion they  both  found  the  doctor's  presence  a  source 
of  comfort  and  consolation,  a  moral  stimulus  to 
their  troubled  hearts. 

Supper  was  over  and  they  were  gathered  around 

the  old  table  in  the  living  room  discussing  in  a 

quiet  way  the  rapid  march  of  recent  events.     Dr. 

Tilghman  was  telling  of  his  fight  for  cleaner  civic 

327 


328  EVE,  JUNIOR 

conditions.  Upon  charges  preferred  by  him,  he 
said,  the  grand  jury  had  but  that  day  returned  an 
indictment  against  the  politician,  Dillon,  in  con- 
nection with  the  Dallas  Street  case  and  others  of 
a  similar  nature.  If  the  court  sustained  the  find- 
ings of  the  jury  Dillon's  power  would  be  com- 
pletely broken  and  the  district  which  he  now  con- 
trolled would  be  subjected  to  a  thorough  moral 
cleansing. 

"We  must  aim,"  said  Dr.  Tilghman,  "to  reduce 
the  proportion  of  evil  which  exists  in  a  given  com- 
munity instead  of  vainly  endeavoring  by  drastic, 
impossible  theories  to  eliminate  it  entirely,  root, 
stock  and  branch.  Only  the  millennium  will  ac- 
complish that.  No  truer  words  were  ever  written 
than  those  of  the  Gloria  Patri :  'As  it  was  in  the 
beginning,  is  now  and  ever  shall  be,  world  with- 
out end.'  And  though  I  realize  the  liberty  I  take 
in  quoting  them  to  such  a  purpose,  they  serve  to 
sustain  my  contention  far  better  than  my  own 
words." 

"An'  you're  tee-totally  right,  Sir,"  the  fisher- 
man agreed,  earnestly.  "They  ain't  any  Scrip- 
tur'  or  laws  or  courts  or  preachers  or  anything  or 
anybody  as  can  keep  folks  from  lyin'  an'  steal  in' 


A  LEAF  UNFOLDS  329 

an'  killin'  an'  cheatin'  an'  a-doin'  a  heap  more 
jus'  as  bad,  once  they  git  their  minds  sot  on't. 
Man,  Sir,  when  the  fear  o'  everlastin'  damnation 
in  hell-fire  won't  stop  'em  you  mought  know  they 
ain't  nothin'  else  in  Kingdom  Come  will."  And 
he  brought  his  big  fist  down  in  a  smashing  blow 
upon  the  table  top. 

There  was  a  little  clatter  as  something  struck 
the  tile  floor  and  rolled  under  McLean's  chair. 
He  stooped  and  picked  up  a  small  mahogany 
dowel,  half  round,  half  square.  The  others  looked 
at  it  curiously,  but  Eve  clapped  her  hands  with 
delight. 

"There !  I  knew  it,"  she  cried,  dancing  out  of 
her  chair.  "It's  the  little  old  'do-funny'  that  holds 
the  sliding  leaves  together.  Isn't  it,  Doctor  Tilgh- 
man?' 

The  minister  took  the  dowel  and  examined  it 
closely  before  he  replied. 

"It  is  a  curious  coincidence,"  he  said  gravely, 
"but  this  dowel  is  identical  with  the  one  I  told 
you  about  in  the  table  at  Arundel  Hall.  I  re- 
member it  because  of  its  half-round,  half-square 
section  which  serves  as  a  lock  when  turned  in 
place.  Numerous  shocks  and  moving  probably 


330  EVE,  JUNIOR 

turned  and  loosened  it  sufficiently  to  allow  it  to 
drop  out  as  it  did  just  now." 

McLean  felt  on  the  under  side  of  the  table  for 
the  little  socket  from  which  the  pin  must  have 
fallen.  In  a  moment  he  had  found  it,  and,  plac- 
ing the  end  of  his  finger  in  it,  pulled  as  hard  as 
he  could. 

At  first  there  was  no  movement,  but  as  he  per- 
sisted the  lower  half  of  the  leaf  gradually  sepa- 
rated from  the  upper  part  and  slid  out  toward  him 
revealing  an  inner  recess  ingenuously  padded  with 
a  material  resembling  green  silk.  The  drawer- 
like  hollow  was  perhaps  a  scant  half-inch  in 
depth,  about  ten  inches  wide  and  nearly  two  feet 
long. 

It  was  littered  from  end  to  end  with  a  multi- 
farious assortment  of  letters,  documents,  official- 
looking  papers  crested  with  the  British  Royal 
coat-of-arms  and  Bank  of  England  notes  in  de- 
nominations of  from  ten  to  five  hundred  pounds. 
Eve  picked  up  one  of  the  yellow  certificates,  look- 
ing at  it  curiously.  It  was  an  hundred-pound 
note. 

"It  looks  like  money,"  she  said,  turning  to  Mc- 
Lean. "Is  it  any  good?" 


A  LEAF  UNFOLDS  331 

"Any  good?"  he  ejaculated,  laughing.  "Yes! 
Good  for  a  little  less  than  five  hundred  dollars 
in  American  gold !" 

"Jiminy!"  Eve  exclaimed  and  began  to  count 
the  notes.  In  a  moment  she  threw  them  aside 
with  a  little  smile  of  futility.  "It's  no  use,"  she 
admitted  as  she  turned  to  complete  her  inspec- 
tion, a  trifle  embarrassed,  "my  'rithmetic  doesn't 
go  that  high." 

In  one  corner  lay  a  small,  well-worn,  leather- 
covered  diary  which  Eve,  prompted,  perhaps,  by 
true  feminine  intuition,  instantly  seized  upon  as 
the  key  to  the  whole  mystery — as  indeed  it  speed- 
ily proved  to  be.  On  the  fly-leaf  a  masculine  hand 
had  inscribed  in  a  large,  precise  chirography,  "Ed- 
ward Carroll,  Bart.,  Arundel  Hall,  Sussex."  Eve 
slowly  read  it  aloud  with  a  little  tremolo  of  sup- 
pressed excitement  in  her  voice.  McLean  and  the 
doctor  gasped  their  astonishment  while  Skip 
evinced  a  mild  interest  in  the  revelation. 

The  first  few  pages  were  taken  up  with  itemized 
accounts  and  brief  statements,  but  Eve  soon  found 
an  entry  that  was  vital.  The  handwriting  and 
the  unfamiliar  words  confused  her,  however,  and 
she  handed  the  book  to  Dr.  Tilghman. 


332  EVE,  JUNIOR 

"  'June  lyth,  1852,' "  the  doctor  read  aloud. 
"  'Set  sail  this  day  in  barken  tine  Deborah  three 
days  in  from  Bombay.  All  crew  deserted  save 
captain,  four  Lascars  and  negro  cook.  One-third 
cargo  still  in  hold.  Weather  threatening. 

"  'July  2nd.  Making  good  progress  West.- 
S.  W.  Destination  indefinite.  Cargo  hold  full 
of  Oriental  rats.  Battened  down  all  'tween-deck 
hatches. 

"  'July  4th.  Rats  gnawed  through,  invading 
forecastle.  Two  Lascars  died  mid-watch.  Fear 
bubonic  fever. 

"  'July  5th.  A  pest-ship.  Remaining  Lascars 
died  forenoon-watch.  Captain  ill.  Have  taken 
in  every  yard  of  canvas  save  stay-sail-jib,  mizzen 
mainsail  and  main  spanker.  (Midwatch)  Captain 
died  at  2  bells.  My  Lady,  myself  and  "Plum," 
the  cook '  " 

"  'Plum,  the  cook !'  "  the  three  exclaimed  in  uni- 
son, their  faces  betraying  their  incredulity. 

"  'And  "Plum,"  the  cook,'  "  the  doctor  con- 
tinued gravely,  "  'are  still  quite  well.  Yet  who 
knows  what  the  next  hour  may  bring  forth?  In 
any  case,  our  position  is  desperate.  Weather 
good. 


A  LEAF  UNFOLDS  333 

"  'July  I4th«.  Sighted  H.  M.  S.  Stingray  dur- 
ing dog-watch.  Had  Plum  reverse  positions  of 
first  and  last  letters  in  "Deborah"  to  read  "Hebo- 
rad,"  the  name  of  an  Indian  princess  in  the  Prov- 
ince of  Nepa.  Wind  abeam.  Weather  fair.' 
This,"  added  Dr.  Tilghman,  "seems  to  be.  the  last 
entry." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened  and  Plum  en- 
tered, blinking  and  squinting  as  his  old  eyes  ac- 
customed themselves  to  the  light.  He  stopped  and 
stared  at  the  group  about  the  table  and  then  at 
the  open,  drawer-like  leaf.  A  flash  of  understand- 
ing lit  his  wrinkled  features  with  a  passing  smile. 

"Is  li'l  Missy  done  found  dem  papers'?"  he 
asked  solemnly. 

"Plum!"  cried  Eve  in  a  tone  of  rebuke,  "and 
you  knew  they  were  here  all  the  time !" 

The  old  negro  shook  his  head  in  a  vigorous,  ve- 
hement denial. 

"Marse  Edward,  he  told  ole  Plum  they  was 
papers  an'  things,  but  he  didn't  never  let  on  where, 
an'  ole  Plum,  he  reckoned  they-all  got  burnt  up 
when  the  mansion  did.  He  never  knowed  about 
no  table,  ole  Plum  didn't." 

"What  about  this  here  barkentine  boat  what's- 


334  EVE,  JUNIOR 

its-name — was  you  cook  on  her*?"  Skip  demanded. 

Plum  recoiled  in  quick  surprise. 

"Do  hit  tell  about  dat,  too?" 

"It  do,"  Skip  replied  with  emphasis.  "Now 
s'pose'n  you  remark  jus'  what  become  o'  this  here 
boat." 

"The  Deborah"  Eve  added. 

The  old  negro  looked  from  one  to  another, 
startled  and  confused. 

"Marse  Edward,  he  made  ole  Plum  swear  by 
the  Good  Book  never  fo'  to  tell,"  he  said  doggedly. 

"But,  Plum,"  Eve  coaxed,  "Grandpa  didn't 
mean  'never'  He  couldn't  have  meant  for  his 
children  never  to  know.  Most  likely  he  left  a 
letter  and  a  will  and  all  among  his  things,  but 
the  fire  destroyed  them  and  now  we  think  that  it 
is  your  duty  to  tell  us  all  you  can  about  him  and 
Grandma  and  how  you-all  came  to  the  island." 

Plum  ruminated  thoughtfully. 

"S'pose'n  ole  Plum,  he  tells,"  he  said  slowly, 
"an'  in  the  night  the  debbil  comes  an'  gits  him? 
'En  what?  Hit'd  go  kind  o'  hard  with  ole  Plum, 
wouldn't  hit?" 

Their  evident  amusement  reassured  him  some- 


A  LEAF  UNFOLDS  335 

what.  With  the  instinct  of  his  race  he  sought  to 
drive  a  petty  bargain. 

"Tell  you-all  folks  whut  ole  Plum'll  do,"  he 
began  with  a  broad  grin.  "If  li'l  Missy'll  'low  to 
keep  the  debbil  an'  ha'nts  an'  sech  like  away,  and 
give  ole  Plum  an  extra  dram  every  day  fer  a  week 
a-startin'  with  one  right  now,  why,  ole  Plum,  he'll 
tell  all  they  is  t'  tell." 

"Man,  Sir,  what  did  I  say?"  Skip  exclaimed. 
"There's  even  old  Plum :  he'd  trade  his  chance  in 
Paradise  for  a  good,  stiff  swag  o'  liquer.  Git  him 
the  jug,  Eve,  anything  t'  have  the  rest  o'  the 
story." 

In  his  eccentric  speech  and  manner  the  old  negro 
drew  a  graphic  panorama  of  the  voyage  of  the 
Deborah.  Soon  after  sighting  the  British  ship  of 
war  they  ran  into  a  heavy  southeast  gale  which 
lasted  for  days  and  drove  them  far  northward  out 
of  their  course.  Previous  to  this  time,  Plum  said, 
he  believed  that  Sir  Edward  had  been  heading 
for  Honduras  or  some  other  Central  American 
country  with  which  Britain  had  no  extradition 
treaty. 

The  continuation  of  the  storm,  however,  forced 
them  to  flee  before  the  wind  and  they  finally  came 


336  EVE,  JUNIOR 

in  sight  of  land  with  a  lee  shore  and  a  merciless 
gale  driving  astern.  By  great  good  fortune,  how- 
ever, it  proved  to  be  the  Virginia  capes,  and  they 
entered  and  anchored  in  a  deep,  landlocked  har- 
bor, completely  exhausted  by  their  single-handed 
battle  with  the  elements. 

Here  they  lay  for  more  than  a  week,  recuperat- 
ing and  unmolested,  but  when  they  were  about 
to  put  to  sea  again  a  fire  was  discovered  in  the 
forward  cargo  hold  amongst  bales  of  hemp  which 
their  hasty  sailing  had  not  given  time  to  discharge. 
Their  efforts  to  extinguish  it  were  vain,  and  after 
thirty-six  hours  they  provisioned  the  yawl  and 
put  aboard  it  such  of  their  luggage  and  effects  as 
it  would  safely  bear,  lowered  it  oversides,  stepped 
the  mast,  hoisted  sail  and  made  off  in  a  northerly 
direction  up  the  bay. 

And  thus  it  was  that  after  two  days  and  nights 
they  hove  to  off  Bodkin  Point  while  Sir  Edward 
and  Plum  waded  ashore  to  make  a  reconnaissance 
and  replenish  their  depleted  supply  of  water. 

"An'  Marse  Edward,"  continued  Plum  dramati- 
cally, "he  seened  the  island  a-layin'  jus'  like  a 
big  green-an'-yaller  turtle  off  yere  in  the  creek,  an' 
he  says,  says  'e,  kind  o'  laughin'  like,  'Plum,  that 


A  LEAF  UNFOLDS  337 

there  island  would  make  a  fust-class  place  fer  a 
castle  with  a  moat  an'  all  already  dug  around  hit.' 
An'  'en,  right  off  he  goes  a-wadin'  back  t'  the 
yawl  an'  ole  Plum  a-follerin'  an'  he  sails  right 
up  t'  this  yere  island  an' — an'  yere  we  is." 

Dr.  Tilghman  extended  his  hand  across  the 
table  to  Eve  and  her  father. 

"That  makes  us  cousins,"  he  said  with  a  fervent 
sincerity  in  his  voice.  "I  am  proud  of  the  rela- 
tionship, proud  and  happy  to  know  that  we  are  of 
the  same  flesh  and  blood.  I  had  suspected  it  since 
the  first  time  I  saw  this  table  and  heard  your 
names,  but  it  seemed  too  good  to  be  true." 

The  big  fisherman,  at  loss  for  words,  gripped 
his  hand  in  silence.  But  Eve  sprang  up  and  ran 
around  the  table  to  where  her  new-found  cousin 
sat.  Before  Dr.  Tilghman  knew  what  she  was 
about  she  had  leaned  down  and  imprinted  a  kiss 
full  upon  his  lips. 

"It's  quite  the  proper  thing  between  cousins, 
you  know,"  she  said  gaily  as  she  returned  to  her 
chair. 

The  doctor  laughed.  But  the  touch  of  her  lips 
had  seared  his  heart.  In  that  full  moment  he  had 
realized  the  limitations  of  her  love  for  him. 


338  EVE,  JUNIOR 

Never,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  would  she  be 
more  than  a  friend,  a  chum  and — a  cousin. 

The  smile  faded  from  his  eyes.  His  face  grew 
suddenly  grave.  Once  more  he  faced  the  prospect 
of  the  years — alone — bravely  and  with  no  bitter- 
ness in  his  soul.  He  arose  and  made  ready  to 
leave. 

"This  day's  sorrow  and  happiness,"  he  said, 
"make  it  possible  for  me  to  go  back  and  give  the 
board  of  deacons  my  long-deferred  explanation 
of  a  hitherto  inexplicable  affair." 

They  returned  the  doctor  as  they  had  brought 
him,  in  McLean's  hydroplane.  The  night  was 
clear  and  calm  and  starlit.  The  slender  arc  of 
a  pale  new  moon  burned  dimly  in  the  distant  west 
still  rosy  with  the  twilight  afterglow.  McLean 
occupied  the  wheel  seat  while  Eve  and  the  doc- 
tor sat  together  in  the  stem. 

"I  had  a  letter  from  Piel,  yesterday,"  Tilgh- 
man  remarked  after  an  interval  of  silence.  "He 
is  in  Paris  with  your  picture,  you  know,  though 
he  says  that  he  means  to  return  shortly.  I  sup- 
pose he  has  found  little  gratification  in  being  the 
unknown  creator  of  an  anonymous  masterpiece." 

"Mr.  Piel  is  very  foolish  to  keep  on  hiding  him- 


A  LEAF  UNFOLDS  339 

self  the  way  he  does,"  Eve  replied  earnestly.  "If 
the  picture  will  make  him  famous,  he  must  sign  it 
and  let  folks  know  who  he  is.  I  shall  write  to 
him  at  once." 

"He  says  that  when  he  leaves  Paris  he  will 
never  exhibit  it  again.  He  declares  that  he  in- 
tends to  give  it  to  you  for  a  wedding  present," 
laughed  the  doctor,  though  his  heart  ached  as  he 
spoke. 

"Give  it  to  me  for  a  wedding  present!"  Eve 
repeated  vaguely. 

"That  is  what  he  said  in  his  letter,  and  I  am 
inclined  to  believe  that  he  will  have  an  opportu- 
nity to  do  it  a  good  deal  sooner  than  he  thinks." 

"Why?"  asked  Eve  shyly  as  she  glanced  away. 

Dr.  Tilghman  looked  at  her  for  a  thoughtful 
moment. 

"Do  you  love  him?"  His  head  inclined  ever  so 
little  toward  McLean. 

The  girl  flushed  and  was  silent. 

"Do  you*?"  he  repeated  gently. 

She  nodded  assent,  her  eyes  still  averted. 

"I  just  can't  help  it,"  she  confessed  softly.  "I 
love  everybody,  I  reckon,  and  I  love  you  more 
than  anybody  except  Dad — and  him.  But  it's  dif- 


34°  EVE,  JUNIOR 

ferent  with  him.  I  love  him  in  all  the  ways  I 
love  you  and  Dad  and  then,  somehow,  just  one 
more  way,  but  that  one  more  way  makes  all  the 
difference  in  the  world.  Sometimes  I'm  sorry,  be- 
cause I  wanted  to  love  you  in  just  the  way  you 
asked  me  to;  but  I  tried  and  tried  and  I  couldn't, 
I  just  couldn't,  dear  Doctor  Malcom.  May  I  call 
you  Cousin  Malcom?  It's  so  hard  to  say  Cousin 
Doctor,  and  all." 

"I  should  much  prefer  that  you  did,  Eve.  As 
for  your  attitude  toward  me,  I  would  a  thousand 
times  rather  have  you  love  McLean  and  be  happy 
in  your  love  than  to  attempt  to  give  me  a  depth  of 
affection  that  your  heart  could  never  feel.  Follow 
the  wiser  dictates  of  your  instincts,  Eve.  Don't 
ever  try  to  mold  your  heart's  desire  to  suit  a  fool's 
convenience.  Time  mends  most  mistakes,  but  it 
seldom  heals  a  broken  heart.  Where  does  Mc- 
Lean go  from  here?" 

"To  Alaska.    Is  it  far?" 

"Far?  Yes.  It  is  too  far.  How  long  will  he 
be  there?" 

"About  a  year,  he  thinks !"  Eve  sighed. 

"Then  I  suppose  you  will  be  going  with  him," 
the  doctor  suggested. 


A  LEAF  UNFOLDS  341 

The  girl  started  ever  so  little. 

"Why  I— I  don't  know.  That  is,  he  hasn't 
asked  me — lately." 

Dr.  Tilghman  laughed. 

"Lately !"  he  repeated,  chuckling  in  spite  of  his 
own  heartache.  "Listen,  Eve — if  you  want  to  be 
happy,  take  my  advice  and  either  do  not  let  him 
go  at  all  or  else  go  with  him.  With  him  away  up 
there  and  you  away  down  here  neither  one  of  you 
would  know  a  moment's  peace  of  mind.  I  can 
tell  it  by  the  way  you  look  at  one  another.  I 
think  I  shall  write  Piel  to  bring  the  picture  back 
at  once  so  that  he  may  be  here  in  time  for  the 
wedding." 

"All  right,"  Eve  agreed,  laughing,  "you  do, 
and  I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  going  to  do  with  the 
picture  when  I  get  it:  I'm  going  to  paint  Mr. 
Piel's  name  and  the  date  in  the  lower  right-hand 

corner  and  send  it  back  to  the Institute  for 

exhibition." 

The  minister  studied  her  for  a  long,  seriously 
thoughtful  moment. 

"As  I  come  closer  and  closer  to  an  understand- 
ing of  the  true  depth  and  beauty  of  your  char- 
acter, little  Cousin,  I  am  more  and  more  impressed 


342  EVE,  JUNIOR 

with  the  significance  of  Piel's  word  when  he 
called  you  'Eve,  Junior.'  In  a  flash  his  artist's 
eyes  saw  what  it  has  taken  mine  nearly  a  year  to 
see,  and  he  summed  you  up  in  words  which  meant 
to  him  an  ideal  woman.  At  the  time  I  thought 
that  he  was  indulging  in  a  mere  pleasantry.  But 
now  I  understand  what  'Eve,  Junior'  signifies." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

ADAM    AND    EVE    REACH    A    DECISION 

ONE  morning  a  week  later  McLean  returned  from 
a  trip  to  the  Bodkin  postoffice  in  a  high  state  of 
exultation.  Eve  heard  him  coming  up  the  grav- 
eled road  at  a  dog-trot  and  ran  to  the  door  to  meet 
him.  He  waved  a  letter  as  he  came  and  stopped 
just  before  he  reached  the  shack  to  execute  what 
appeared  to  be  a  species  of  war  dance. 

"What  on  earth  are  you  doing?"  Eve  called 
when  she  had  managed  to  control  her  merriment. 

"Celebrating!"  McLean  replied  gaily.  "I 
don't  get  a  letter  like  this  every  day." 

"Somebody  die  and  leave  you  a  gold  mine?" 

"Better  than  that.    Guess  again !" 

"A  million  dollars,  then,  I  reckon,  if  there  is 
that  much !" 

"No,  this  is  a  letter — not  a  will.  You've  got 
one  more  guess." 

"I  don't  want  it.  S'pose'n  you-all  quit  cavort- 
343 


344  EVE,  JUNIOR 

in'  like  a  wound-up  wooden  Indian  and  fetch  that 
letter  here  where  a  body  can  read  what  the  excite- 
ment's all  about.  Or  must  I  come  and  get  it?" 

They  laughingly  met  halfway. 

The  letter  Eve  read  ran  as  follows: 

"Douglas  McLean,  Esq., 
"Ass't.  U.  S.  C.  &  G.  Survey, 
"Bodkin,  Maryland. 
"DEAR  SIR: 

"You  are  hereby  ordered  to  report  to  the 
Custom  House  for  the  district  of  Maryland, 
etc.,  at  the  conclusion  of  your  present  leave, 
there  to  assume  the  title  and  duties  of  the 
newly  created  office  of  District  Engineer. 
Your  salary  from  current  date  will  be  thirty- 
six  hundred  dollars  ($3600)  per  year. 

"This  communication  supersedes  all  previ- 
ous orders  which  are  hereby  rescinded. 
"Very  truly, 

"H.  O.  WHITMAN, 
"Superintendent." 

"Why  that  will  be  right  in  town,  won't  it?" 
Eve  remarked  at  the  conclusion  of  the  letter. 


ADAM  AND  EVE  REACH  A  DECISION  345 

"Exactly,"  McLean  agreed  with  enthusiasm, 
"and  we  can  build  a  little  house  in  the  suburbs 
and  spend  almost  every  week-end  here  in  Bod- 
kin, if  you  want  to.  We  could  have  a  boat 
to  come  and  go  in,  or  perhaps  a  small  car 
would  be  more  serviceable,  though  we'd  have  to 
clear  the  old  swamp  road  out  a  bit.  Besides,  you 
could  take  up  your  art  work  again  and  renew  your 
studies  along  other  lines.  Then,  too,  there  are 
the  friends  and  acquaintances  you  made  during 
your  stay  with  the  Tilghmans.  As  far  as  I  can  see 
the  arrangement  offers  every  advantage  to  both 
of  us." 

Eve  was  silent  for  a  moment.  His  quiet,  self- 
assured  manner  of  renewing  his  proposal  pleased 
her  far  more  than  any  theatrical  outburst  of  pas- 
sion could  have  done,  but  her  innate  femininity 
longed  to  have  the  romantic  subject  approached 
and  disposed  of  in  a  less  prosaic  way.  She  smiled 
demurely  and  said: 

"You  make  me  think  of  a  man  who  came  to 
the  studio  to  sell  Mr.  Piel  a  shotgun.  He  said 
that  he  had  brought  the  gun  along  because  he  was 
sure  that  as  soon  as  Mr.  Piel  saw  it  he'd  buy  it 
because  it  had  so  many  fixings  and  things  on  it 


346  EVE,  JUNIOR 

that  most  guns  didn't  have.  He  said  that  the 
only  trouble  with  it  was  that  when  you  went  to 
shoot  it  you  never  could  tell  beforehand  which 
way  it  would  go  off.  Well,  it's  the  same  way 
with  this  proposition  of  yours :  Unless  I  can  be 
mighty  sure  that  all  those  advantages  are  going 
to  help  make  happiness,  they'd  hardly  be  worth 
taking  the  risk  for,  would  they?" 

McLean's  face  evidenced  hurt  surprise. 

"But,  Eve,  dear,  this  is  not  a  parallel  case  at 
all.  These  advantages  I've  mentioned  are  merely 
incidentals,  things  that  just  happened  to  be.  We 
could  get  along  just  as  well  without  them  because 
love  is  the  only  element  that  really  counts.  If 
you  think  those  other  things  make  any  difference 
with  me  I'll  chuck  up  the  whole  business  and  stay 
right  here  in  Bodkin  and  go  to  fishing  for  a  liv- 
ing just  to  prove  that  they  don't.  I  love  you 
more  than  anything  in  the  world,  Eve.  Nothing 
else  really  matters,  one  way  or  another.  My  wife 
shall  be  my  world — if  you  will  be  my  wife." 

Eve  raised  herself  upon  her  toes,  her  glorious 
face  uplifted,  her  lips  inviting  his. 

"I  will,"  she  whispered  softly. 


ADAM  AND  EVE  REACH  A  DECISION  347 

After  that  some  time  elapsed  before  either  of 
them  found  opportunity  to  speak  again. 

"Now  that  that  part  of  it  is  settled,"  Eve  re- 
marked later  on,  "suppose  we  walk  through  the 
old  swamp  road  again  and  see  just  about  how 
much  clearing  will  have  to  be  done  to  get  our  car 
through." 


THE    END 


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